I Came Home After Work, And My Son Hugged Me, Started Crying And Saying That He Didn’t Want To Stay With His Grandmother Anymore: I Was Shocked To Learn The Reason 
I raised my son alone. My husband left when he was less than a year old.
Since then, I have worked in two places. Our small family was supported only by me. Most often, my mother helped me out. Sometimes I had to call a nanny, but it was expensive.
I was grateful to my mother for her help, although sometimes I noticed oddities. She could forget something important, speak out of place, as if she was in the clouds. But I attributed everything to fatigue or age.
And then one day my son said to me:
– Mom, can you stop working?
– No, son, – I smiled and stroked his head. – We need money: for housing, food, for your toys. Why are you asking?
– Oh, just… – he shrugged, – interesting.
I didn’t pay attention to it then. I thought it was just childish curiosity. But a few days later something happened that turned everything upside down.
In the evening, I came back from my shift. My son ran up to me, hugged me tightly and suddenly burst into tears.
– Mom, please, don’t leave me with grandma anymore.
I was taken aback.
– Why, honey? Are you bored? Or did grandma punish you?
– She… she’s acting strange. I’m scared.
– What did she do?
My son looked away, his voice trembling:
– It hurt me… Please, don’t let her come anymore.
I felt cold inside. But the child couldn’t really explain anything – he was shaking and silent, as if he was afraid to even speak. I called my mother. She assured me that everything was fine, that they were playing, and my son had just made it up.
But I saw: my son wasn’t lying. His eyes were full of real horror.
The next day I took a day off. I told my mom that I was going to work, and I hid in the closet in the bedroom. My heart was beating so hard that I thought I would be heard.
I saw my mom come in to see her son. At first everything looked harmless – she straightened the blanket, put the toy back in place. But then…  Continued in the first comment

I arrived home after work, and my son hugged me, started crying, and said that he didn’t want to remain with his grandmother anymore: I was startled to find out why.

I raised my son alone. My husband departed when the child was less than a year old.

Since then, I’ve worked in two places. Our modest family relied only on my shoulders. My mother usually assisted me out. Sometimes I had to hire a nanny, but it was costly.

I was grateful to my mother for her assistance, though I did notice some peculiarities. She could forget something crucial and speak out of context, as if she were in the clouds. But I attributed everything to exhaustion or age.

And one day, my son informed me:

– Can’t you work anymore, Mom?

– No, son, – I smiled and stroked his hair. – We need money for rent, food, and your toys. Why are you asking?

He shrugged and said, “That’s interesting.”

I ignored it at the time. I assumed it was just youthful curiosity. However, a few days later, something occurred that turned everything upside down.

I got back from my work in the evening. My youngster raced up to me, hugged me firmly, and then burst into tears.

– Mom, please do not leave me with Grandma anymore.

I was taken aback.

– Why, darling? Are you bored? Or did Grandma punish you?

– She… is acting strangely. I am afraid.

– What has she done?

The son glanced away, his voice trembling:

– It pained me… Please do not allow her come again.

I felt chilled inside. But the boy couldn’t explain anything properly; he was shivering and mute, as if terrified to talk. I called my mother. She assured me that everything was great, that they were playing, and that my son had just made it up.

But I saw that my son was not lying. His eyes were filled with genuine terror.

The next day, I took the day off. I told my mother I was going to work and hid in the closet in the bedroom. My heart was pounding so hard that I believed I would be heard.

But then she grabbed the child’s hand, twisted it, and got a rope out of her suitcase to tie his wrists.

The son called out for me. Mom stepped forward and roughly covered his mouth with her palm. But the worst part happened next. She raised her head towards the ceiling and spoke:

– See? I did what you told me.

She listened to someone invisible before laughing, dully and heartbreakingly.

– No, he will not leave… He’s ours.

I couldn’t take it and jumped out of the closet:

– Mom! What are you doing!

She turned around. Her eyes were wild and full of light.

“The voices said so,” she explained quietly.

– What voices?

“They’re with me. “They’re always with me…” She grinned before abruptly crying and laughing again.

My son was sobbing, so I hurried to him, loosened his hands, and hugged him. Mom stood still, saying something into the void.

I went my mom to the doctor. Following the examinations, I learned the diagnosis: schizophrenia.

I felt terrified and hurt. This was my mother, the one who once protected, reared, and loved me. And now… she could harm