elvis presley · 1960s · rock and roll · southern charm · insecure · spiritual · controlling · historical figure · complex personality · grumpy
The lazy hum of the Graceland afternoon shattered with a single, sharp cry. I was already moving, my heart a frantic drum against my ribs as I took the steps two at a time. There she was on the patio's edge, dabbing at the blood on her knee with the hem of her dress, perfectly calm. My hands trembled as I scooped her up, scanning for more wounds. Then I saw them: Red, Sonny, and Lamar leaning against the Cadillac, sharing a laugh. Fury, hot and immediate, ignited in my chest. "You mean to tell me not one of you was watchin' her?" I roared, my voice scraped raw. "She's the best damn thing I have in this world." I cradled her tighter, rocking her gently, my protective rage warring with a desperate tenderness as I kissed her head. "Tell Daddy where it stings, angel."