The Stalker (Elvis Presley Story)

Chapter 22

Melissa stood in the theater manager's office, in the hall outside the wings. She'd come here right after last curtain, not even bothering to take off her makeup or change out of her costume.

She looked down at her blue-striped dress. It was from the first act. She'd thrown it on and raced onstage, forcing the stalker's latest threat out of her mind so she could dance. And she had - better than ever.

The slashed costume hadn't stopped her.

But Stan might.

The police had let him go. They'd escorted him Halfway back to Glenwood junction. He didn't drive a white car.

A white car.

Jimmy's father had a white car, didn't he? Yes, and jimmy borrowed it all the time, or did he when Melissa was going out with him. Why hadn't she thought of that before?

Quickly Melissa picked up the phone and dialed Jimmy's home.  While she waited for someone to answer, Toni stuck her head around the door.

"A bunch of us are going for pizza," She said. "You want to come?"

Melissa nodded. "As soon as I'm through here," She said. "You'll never....hello?"

"Meet you there," Toni mouthed silently, and hurried off.

"Mr. White?" Melissa said into the phone. "This is Melissa. Melissa Williams. Could I speak to jimmy, please?"

"Jimmy?" Mr. White said. "Haven't seen him for a few days, Melissa. He's got himself a job. About time, too." He chuckled.

Melissa smiled. She'd always liked Jimmy's father. Too bad jimmy didn't take after him. "Well, thanks, Mr. White."

"Anytime. Say, if you run into him, remind him that I expect a full tank when he gets back," Mr. White told her.

"Why would I run into him?" Melissa asked. "I thought he was working?"

"He is. He's driving all over the place, trying to sell encyclopedias." Jimmy's father laughed again. "And using my car to do it."

His father's white car.

Standing in the theater office, Melissa suddenly went cold.

Jimmy must have disguised his handwriting on the note, she thought. Just like he disguised his voice. When he realised he couldn't have me he snapped. Now he wants to kill me.

As she reached for the phone to call the police again, she heard a loud click. The hallway lights had gone off.

Go, she told herself. Get out of here now. She sped out of the office and back to the wings. No one was around. It was dark here, too, but not pitch-dark.

A dim bulb glowed over the stage manager's table. The table was offstage right, just out of the audience's view. Beyond that were the stage doors, the quickest way out.

Melissa was in the wings stage left. Keeping her eyes on the faint light, she headed through the wings towards the stage. She almost reached it when she heard it.

A muffled noise.

Then a scraping sound.

Melissa's mouth went dry. Her heart thundered.

The sound had come from behind her. Gripping the heavy folds of the open curtain, she glanced over her shoulder.

Elvis stood there, a tire iron from the prop table clutched tightly in his hand.

No, not Elvis! Melissa thought. Not Elvis! Melissa's heart stalled, then started racing again as he took a step towards her.

"Don't!" She told him. "Elvis, please!"

He stopped, staring at her. "Melissa, what's wrong? I want to talk to you."

Right, Melissa thought. Just have a little chat with a tire iron in your hand.

"I can't talk right now," She told him. "I don't want to talk right now."

"I know that," Elvis said. He stayed where he was, about ten feet away from her. "You haven't talked to me for a long time, Melissa, not since you saw me with Steph."

Melissa mind started racing along with her heart.

Not since you saw me with Steph, he said. That's when all the real terror began. After she told Elvis to leave her alone. Stan might have stalked her. But he was harmless.

Elvis wasn't.  Elvis presley wanted to kill her.

"Melissa," Elvis said. "Listen to me."

She shook her head. "I can't. I have to go." It was all she could think of to say. She could scream, but no one was around to hear her.

"I really have to go, Elvis," She repeated. "Maybe we can talk tomorrow or...."

"I've waited too long already!" He burst out.

Melissa stiffened, terrified.

"Okay, I won't talk," Elvis said. Quietly this time. "I'll ask you something instead." He cocked his head and smiled at her. "I left something for you in your dressing room. Did you find it?"

The image of her costume flashed across her mind. Her pink and green plaid dress. Slashed and shredded to ribbons.

How could he smile? she wondered. How could he ask that with a smile on his face?

"I found it," She whispered.

His smile widened. Even across the shadowy wings, Melissa could see the dimple at the side of his mouth. "What did you think?" He asked.

Melissa started shaking. From anger. From fear. Get out of here! She told herself. Stop trying to fool him.

Just get out of here, now!

Keeping her eyes on Elvis, Melissa took a step backwards. The heavy folds of the curtain enveloped her. She Gasped and tried to push them away.

Elvis was moving towards her.

"No!" She shouted, batting wildly at the thick folds of the dusty red velvet. "Don't do this!"

At last she found the edge of the curtain. Breaking free, she ran onto the stage.

"Melissa, wait!" Elvis called.

Footsteps behind her. He was coming. Running fast. Getting close.

If he caught her, he'd kill her.

"Melissa!" His voice was closer.

"No!" She screamed.

Her foot caught on something. The edge of a flat, a prop that hadn't been put away. She never knew what. But she was stumbling. Trying to keep her balance. Trying to run, even as her arms shot out and her feet left the ground.

Her hand hit the stage. Her wrist bent awkwardly and pain shot up her arm. She tried to get her feet under her, tried to scramble up, but she fell to her stomach.

Behind her, footsteps again.

A rattling sound.

A dull thud.

A gasp.

Movement behind her.

Melissa screamed and braced herself on her elbows.  Got to her knees.

Screamed again as Elvis fell beside her. The tire iron skittered and clanged across the stage into the wings.

He tripped, too! She thought. You still have a chance!

She got her feet underneath her. And Started to stand.

And then she noticed that Elvis wasn't moving. He was on his stomach, his arms flung out in front of him. His head turned to one side. His eyes were closed.

A trickle of blood ran from the raven black hair at the back of his neck and dripped steadily onto the stage.

Hope you enjoyed! And thanks for reading! xoxo