Okay, what I'm about to disclose is an personal experience that I had. It also happened when I was quite young. My mother had given birth to my sister when she was 14, and married(child marriage is a problem where I am). When my sister was six years old, my forty two years old stepfather's head was found Impaled on a spear in the middle of a paddy field. Two years after that, my mother gave birth to me. So I don't know who my father is. My mother was massively socially ostracized for my birth. But she continued to love me and care for me like any mother ever. When I was four, mother caught tuberculosis in her brain. At first it was undiagnosed, it just grew with a headache and soon got out of control. I remember it vaguely. I was playing around, asking questions, being hungry, being the annoying child I was. Then mother just dashed towards me from the kitchen and before I knew it, she was slamming my head into the wall again and again. It left a bloody smear on the wall. It was painful. She was taken down. We were both taken to the hospital. She was cured, but by then she had lost a good chunk of her memory and motor skills and was in an unstable stage. So she was sent to an insane asylum. When I was finally released from the hospital with 13 stitches, I was taken to visit my mother in the asylum. I don't know about anywhere outside, but here, asylums are truly depressing and overcrowded places. They literally keep the insane in barred cells. She was in one of those barred cells. I don't really remember which cell. Maybe I'll ask my sister. She refused to talk to me. Some of the people she forgot, some she communicated normally with, but she absolutely refused to talk to me. When I finally annoyed her enough that she looks at me, was when the horror happened. As she stared at me, I saw her face distort. A portion of it sort of started melting down like wax. She looked at me for a few moments and got back to talking to other people. I don't think anybody other than me and my grandma saw it because everyone acted natural. When we were leaving, grandma pulled me away and asked me if I saw anything. I told her what I saw and she told me not to tell anyone about it because then my mother won't get a funeral when she dies. I've visited her several times after that, my uncles often took me there to show me what I was responsible for, and Everytime she looked straight at me, her face would distort in a similar way. In the end she didn't get a funeral after all, because she committed suicide in the asylum. There's my tale. I gave so much background so that you understand exactly the kind of mindset I'd have at this. I understand that most of this experience can be described with mental illness such as schizophrenia and trauma working together. I'd like to hear what you think. I'm open to any judgement.