Pretty Baby

Chapter 4

I stare blankly at the empty page in front of me, the cursor on my laptop blinking incessantly, mocking me. The legal pad beside it is just as barren, with only a few aborted lines and half-formed thoughts scrawled across the lined pages.

My signature series fender acoustic guitar sits in my lap, providing me with no help.

This was supposed to be the solution, a temporary escape to my home studio while Jade took Penny out for some fresh air. The silence I've been craving for weeks on end, a reprieve from the endless cycle of feedings, changings, and crying fits. But now that I finally have it, the quiet feels oppressive, weighing down on me like a heavy shroud.

I let out a frustrated groan and shove away from the desk, the wheels of my chair protesting shrilly against the hardwood. This is bad, maybe the worst bout of writer's block I've ever experienced. And the sad part is, I should be overflowing with inspiration right now.

My gaze drifts around the converted guest bedroom that serves as my creative sanctuary. Faded posters and vinyl covers line the exposed brick walls, the faint aroma of stale beer and harsh tobacco clinging to every surface. In the far corner, a well-worn couch sags beneath piles of discarded clothing and empty takeout containers.

It's a perfect representation of my life before Penny entered the picture, a chaotic vortex of indulgent vices and zero responsibilities. The hazy, perpetual bachelor pad where I could pour all my creative energy into music and writing without any distractions. Groupies would often watch my creative process, just waiting for me to finish and bring me to bed.

So why, now that I finally have the solitude I used to crave, can't I seem to tap into that same passion I once had?

A thought occurs to me, and I quickly snatch up my battered acoustic guitar, cradling the worn wood like an old friend. If pen and paper won't cooperate, maybe a little musical improvisation is what I need to loosen the creative logjam.

My fingers dance across the strings, coaxing out a few meandering chords as I try to find my groove. But the notes sound hollow and uninspired, like I'm just going through the motions. With a frustrated sigh, I let the guitar fall silent, slumping back in defeat.

"What's the matter, Zac?" I can hear Chloe's teasing voice in my mind as clearly as if she were here. "The great, brooding artist finally hit a roadblock in that fertile mind of his?"

I squeeze my eyes shut, trying in vain to banish her memory. Even after all this time, all the upheaval and chaos she inflicted, she still haunts me like a persistent ghost. Her face swims behind my eyelids, those full, pouty lips always twisted in a knowing smirk, emerald eyes glinting with wry amusement at my perpetual torment.

"You know, you could always write about me," she purrs, her voice like silk against my skin. "I was always such a delicious source of angst and heartbreak for you, baby."

My fingers tighten around the guitar's neck until the knuckles turn white. She's not wrong. Some of my most critically acclaimed, gut-wrenching tracks and prose stemmed from the beautiful nightmare that was our relationship. The constant push/pull of fiery passion and soul-crushing misery. At any time of the day, a person could turn the radio on and hear any one of my famous singles about Chloe over the airwaves.

Maybe that's what I need, to tap into those deep, turbulent wellsprings of emotion again. To mine the anguish of her abandoning me with Penny for all the tragic, primal poetry it's worth.

With a renewed sense of purpose, I grab my legal pad and pencil, Chloe's phantom voice still echoing through my mind. The words start to flow, my hand struggling to keep up with the torrent of pent-up feeling.

Lost in the maze of her lies,

Wandering blind, a man unbound.

Chasing her ghost 'til the death light dies.

The lyrics pour out of me in a raw, visceral stream, painting a vivid portrait of heartbreak and betrayal. Each verse feels like blood oozing out of an open wound, the sting of her betrayal as fresh as the day she disappeared.

She was nothing but a calm within the storm.

Now you can find me adrift in the empty space

Where her warmth used to form.

I barely register the sound of the front door opening and closing, too consumed by the white-hot creative fury coursing through me. This is the release I've been desperate for, the valve to unleash all the pent-up angst and turmoil that's been simmering beneath the surface.

“Zac?" Jade's melodic voice drifts in from the living room, shattering my intense focus. "You in here, daddy-o? I'm back with the little princess."

Penny's coos soon follow, that unmistakable infant soundtrack I've become so accustomed to over the past couple weeks. I should feel relieved at their return, a change from the crushing silence that was stifling my creativity.

But in this moment, with Chloe's ghost whispering in my ear, urging me to keep excavating the depths of my shattered psyche… their presence is an unwelcome distraction. A harsh reminder of the new reality that robbed me of my former anguished muse. I wonder if Chloe even thinks about Penny.

"In here," I call out gruffly, making no move to greet them. I need to ride this twisted lightning bolt of inspiration for as long as I can before it fizzles out and abandons me again.

The door to the studio eases open, Jade's bright presence filling the room as she peers in with a sunny smile. "There you are! I was wondering where you'd gotten off t-" Her voice trails off as she takes in the scene before her. Me hunched over the legal pad, hair disheveled and eyes glazed with maniacal focus. In her arms, Penny watches me wrestle with creativity, as if sensing the shift in my energy.

"Everything okay?" Jade asks carefully, her brow furrowing in concern. "You seem… intense over there."

"I'm fine," I dismiss her, turning my attention back to the lyrics taking shape. "Just a burst of creative inspiration, that's all. Finally broke through the block."

"Oh..." She blinks, clearly taken aback by my abrupt tone. "Well, that's great, then! I'm happy for you, Zac."

She moves to step further into the room, but I hold up a hand to halt her progress. "Actually, do you mind giving me some space to work? I want to try and capture this flow for as long as I can before it passes."

Jade's eyes widen slightly at my request, but she nods without protest. "Sure, of course. We'll just get out of your hair for a bit."

As she turns to go, Penny lets out a plaintive whine, as if in protest at being dismissed so easily. The sound slices straight through me, a stark counterpoint to the romantic musings I've been indulging.

"Don't worry, sweet pea," Jade soothes, swaying gently to calm her. "Daddy's just in the zone right now. We'll come back and shower him with cuddles later, okay?"

The door clicks shut behind them, leaving me alone once more with the ghosts swirling through my mind. I take a deep, steadying breath and refocus on the words, my pencil flying across the page in a fevered scrawl.

Chloe, you ripped my heart in two,

Left me bleeding out, nothing left to lose.

Your love was a dagger, twisted and cruel,

Now I'm coming back for you, breaking all the rules.

The lyrics take on a life of their own, practically writing themselves as that familiar vortex of heartbreak and despair swallows me whole once more. I'm not just recounting the specific gut-punch of Chloe's abandonment. I'm channeling every broken relationship, every shattered dream, every self-destructive plummet I've endured over the years.

It's a strong purging of all the darkness and damage I've accumulated, building up like an infection just beneath the surface. And with each anguished verse, I can feel the tender scabs being ripped away, the wounds laid bare and weeping once more.

Promises like venom, sweet and sly,

You played the part, a devil in disguise.

I see through the facade, the fake tears you cry,

No more falling for your web of lies.

I barely register time passing, being so consumed by the word flow playing out on the page before me. It could have been minutes or hours that I sat hunched over the desk, pencil scratching out a relentless litany of my innermost turmoil.

It's only when the scribbling finally grinds to a halt, that I become aware of the shadows lengthening across the studio. I blink slowly, feeling drained and hollowed out.

I lift my head, a dull ache spreading in my neck and shoulders from being hunched over for so long. I try to loosen the knots of tension by stretching, and I glance down at my legal pad.

The pages are a mess of frantic scrawls and cross-outs, entire lines scratched out only to be resurrected a few verses later. But there, amidst the chaos, is the unmistakable skeleton of a new song. A raw, unvarnished exorcism given visceral life through lyrics and melody.

I can't help but feel a sense of satisfaction as I flip through the pages. This… this is the kind of brutally honest work I’m not exactly known for, but maybe it’s a new style. the kind that bleeds straight from the most damaged corners of the soul.

Which is why, even as a sense of pride starts to bloom in my chest… it's quickly extinguished by a hollow pang of disappointment. Because as cathartic as this lyrical purging was, as viscerally as it tapped into those seemingly endless wellsprings of angst and heartbreak… it already feels like a relic. An artifact from a past life that grows more distant with each passing day.

This song, these anguished words… they're no longer a genuine reflection of who I am or where my headspace resides. Not really. Not anymore.

With a weary sigh, I toss the pencil aside and slump back in my chair, the lyrics seeming to taunt me from the page. What was supposed to be a creative rebirth, a triumphant return to my artistic roots, now just feels like a hollow, self-indulgent wallow in the darkness of my former self.

The truth is, no matter how much I may crave the familiarity of that old torment, I can't fully inhabit that headspace anymore. Not when the light of my life is just a room away, waiting to pull me back into the present with her sunny smiles and endless wonder.

I'm not that brooding, angst-ridden version of myself anymore. I'm a father now, and no amount of dredging up past demons can change or diminish that new reality.

The realization is both a relief and a source of anxiety. On one hand, I've finally shed that ragged, damaged coat of romantic misery that was my artistic calling card for so long. But on the other… who am I as an artist, as a creative force, without that all-consuming angst to pour onto the page?

I have no answers, no clear path forward out of this existential crisis I’m in. All I know is that the silence surrounding me no longer feels oppressive, it's a blank slate, an open road waiting for me to forge a new path. One guided by the light of this new chapter in my life, not the shadows of the past I've been so desperately clinging to.

The studio door eases open once more, Jade slipping back inside with Penny cradled in her arms. My daughter's face lights up the second her eyes land on me, a brilliant smile blooming across her cherubic features.

"Well, look who's back." I can't help but grin, the weight on my shoulders lifting ever so slightly. "So, tell me about your day?"

Jade laughs lightly, settling onto the couch beside me. "We had a blast. Didn't we, sweet pea?" She nuzzles her nose against Penny's chubby cheek, drawing a peal of delighted giggles from her. "Although, I think someone's getting a little sleepy now."

"Here, pass her to me," I hold out my arms, already feeling the soothing balm of Penny's presence washing over me. "I could use some quality snuggle time with my favorite girl."

As Jade hands off Penny into my embrace, our fingers brush momentarily, sending an unexpected tingle through me. Our eyes meet and hold for an extra second before I clear my throat, glancing away quickly.

"So, did you manage to get anything productive done while we were out?" Jade asks, mercifully oblivious to the strange tension that just zinged between us. "Or did the muse decide to take the day off, after all?"

"Oh, I got something done alright," I murmur, my gaze falling to the scribbled pages once more. "Just not sure it's anything worth keeping in the end."

I can feel Jade's curious stare burning into me, but I don't elaborate further. I'm not ready to share the twisted, tormented rebirth my creativity just went through. Not with her, and definitely not with the innocent little baby currently nuzzling into the crook of my neck. Negative stories about her mom is not something she should hear.

No, those anguished artistic musings can stay locked away, a story of a past life that grows more distant with each passing day. Whatever my creative path forward is, it won't be found by wallowing in the darkness and damage of my former self.

As Penny lets out a soft coo of contentment against my chest, I can't help but smile at the possibilities stretching out before me. The silence surrounding us is no longer oppressive. It's a blank canvas, waiting for me to pick up the brush and create something new altogether.

And this time, my new muse will be the warmth and wonder radiating from my daughter's very existence. The endless inspiration to be found in her journey of discovery, in our journey together as we both navigate this crazy new reality.

So, let the ghosts of my past howl all they want from the shadows. I've got no more time for their torment and tragedy. Not when my future is beaming up at me with unconditional love and the purest joy in her bright, trusting eyes .