1977.
Elvis was awake but he stayed in bed, staring at a black and white photograph on his bedside table. The table itself was a mess. Pill bottles, water glasses etc. It was a metaphor for Elvis's life.
Louise stared back at him from the inside of a frame, a big smile on her face. God, the way she looked at him. When those sapphire blue eyes landed on you, you felt like the only man in the world. Elvis wished he could go back and savour every look, kiss, and touch. He didn't know back then that they were limited.
This was his life now. The odd gruelling concerts. The pills. Seeing his 5 year old son, Aaron, who looked so much like Louise it pained him. Mostly, he stayed in bed, the television on low, windows shut. His bedroom, decorated in red and white and gold, his bed spread a bundle of furs, had become a prison.
And the same thing was on Elvis's mind everyday, the same regret: 'I wish I'd stopped her from leaving.'
I wish I'd made her stay.
YOU ARE READING
Elvis & the English Rose.
FanfictionElvis first met Louise in his dressing room in The International Hotel. She was tall, blonde, and as pretty as a picture. More than anything, she was kind. From the moment he met her, he felt his heart flip, and that was something he hadn't felt in...
