The Beast Within (Book One of the Changes Series)

-Danielle’s POV-

The obnoxious ring of my alarm clock startled me awake. Cold beads of sweat clung to my face, stinging my eyes. I tried to wipe the blurry irritation the best I could.

Confused, I surveyed the area, halfway expecting to still be on the ranch with that thing. Instead, I was greeted by the pastel-shaded walls of my bedroom. I let out the breath I held.

It was all a dream.

I glanced to find Nathan’s side of the bed was empty. The alarm was still blaring. What time was it? I sat up, turning to let my feet dangle freely off the bed.

Reaching for the alarm, I pressed the off button. Wait, that couldn’t be right, the clock’s display showed it was ten o’clock in the morning. How could that be possible? The kids should’ve woken me up by now.

A piece of paper halfway under my clock caught my attention.

Hi, Honey.

I noticed you were exhausted, so I’m dropping the kids off at Kid’s Korner on my way to work. I also called in a favor to Emery, and your appointment was moved to noon today.

Love you.

“‘We’ll talk more tomorrow.’ Yeah, great talk,” I mockingly said underneath my breath.

God, he must think I was crazy to have Emery see me on a Saturday.

I let out a groan as I lifted out of bed. The leftover confusion from my nightmare was starting to fade, but it was quickly replaced with irritation.

That was just like Nathan to take over. I used to love that about him. He seemed to excel at everything, going through life without any doubts or regrets. I had my own dreams and aspirations, but Nathan’s always seemed more significant. That easily impressed the young country girl I used to be.

A chuckle escaped my mouth as I remembered how we first met. We literally ran into each other in a hospital hallway. Me holding a tray of urine specimens. Him about to be wearing one of them.

Doctors weren’t always known for their kindness, but he was different. He seemed more concerned that I accepted his apology for running into me. By the end of our conversation, he had asked me out on a lunch date. A handsome, charming doctor wanted to take me on a date.

Even though I was almost ten years his junior, we fit together perfectly, at first. Nathan helped me navigate life, which made it less scary. I was his faithful cheerleader, ready to follow him anywhere and through anything.

That was until I got pregnant. Nathan scrutinized every detail of my pregnancy; he even went as far as to handpick my OB-GYN. There wasn’t an appointment Nathan would miss, and he was elated when he found out we were having twins. At first, I felt lucky to have such a “hands-on” husband, but the further I got into the pregnancy, the more I felt suffocated.

After having Lexi and Cam, postpartum depression hit me hard. Between Nathan’s hovering and the postpartum, I thought I was going crazy. I tried to talk to Nathan about it, but he just took over instead.

He hired a live-in nanny, canceled my plans, appointments, and everything in between. He would also keep asking me questions about my mental disposition and physical strength. It felt like he was searching for something in particular, and from his reactions, I didn’t believe I ever gave the correct answer. At that time, I felt I was one more wrong answer away from the loony bin. I didn’t think Nathan meant to, but he made me feel disregarded as a person, a mother, and a wife.

So, I took it upon myself to see a psychiatrist in secret. I knew if Nathan ever found out, he would be furious, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was it worked. After some couch time and a light antidepressant, I started feeling better. The feeling of getting “me” back was priceless. I could be wrong, but Nathan didn’t seem as enthused, or maybe I was just in my feelings.

By the time the twins had their first birthday, I had let the nanny go with Nathan’s blessing, of course. I was able to pick up volunteer assignments at different clinics after the children had turned two. Sometime after, Nathan’s hyper-vigilance seemed to relax.

I gazed down at my wedding ring, fidgeting with its placement.

It looked as if I hadn’t entirely healed from that experience, and here I was again, hiding things from Nathan. But I had my reasons. The kids were healthy and happy; I had been happy. I mean, I was happy. Well, I would be again once I figured out what was wrong with me now.

Walking up to the mirror, I felt like damaged goods.

Once we weathered the storm of the first pregnancy, I didn’t want any more kids, but Nathan always wanted a big family. So, I believed I owed it to him to try, but it wasn’t meant to be.

The doctors he coaxed me to see blamed my endometriosis. Nathan and I were told it was a blessing we were even able to have our twins. It was a bitter-sweet pill for me. I was perfectly fine, but I knew Nathan wasn’t satisfied even though he never voiced it. I couldn’t help but feel broken, and now this. I was becoming unfixable.

I looked deeply into the mirror as I pinned my wavy hair into a make-shift bun. Maybe Nathan always knew I was cracked. The baby blues were his indicator of the madness that lay underneath.

I let out a deep breath and nodded once at my reflection, deciding I would share everything with Nathan. I had to spill my guts about the antidepressant, lost minutes, the dream, the voices: everything.

I watched my reflection for a beat longer. The nightmare was replaying in my mind. I really did feel like shit.

“It’s not hopeless. You’re not hopeless,” I recited.

Now all I had to do was believe it.