Michael Edwards & Prepubescent Lisa Marie Presley

On the day she was supposed to return I went over to her house, hoping to make up. I wanted one last chance for us to put all our problems of the past behind us and start anew. As I waited for the limousine to pull up outside the gate, bringing her home, I thought of all kinds of wonderful things we'd soon be doing together—me and the kids and her. I waited and I thought and thought and thought. This time, she didn't return to me.

I knew she and whoever she was there with must be on their way back to Beverly Hills. I went back over to her house and waited. I was scared. She'd never done anything this blatant before. I hadn't eaten, literally, for days, and was chain-smoking. I tried to tell myself that

I was sitting in the kitchen when I heard the click of the gate. I glanced up at the monitor and saw Priscilla's Jag pulling in the drive. Moments later Priscilla walked in, resplendent in tight red pants and a red and white striped sweater and red high heels. The old look—lacy, loose-fitting, Miss Prim and Proper, collars buttoned up with little bows at the neck— was gone. Something wasn't right.

"Michael," she said, "what are you doing here? We've broken up."

"I just had to see you. Where have you been?"

"In New York, of course. But you have no right to be here."

I put my arms around her. She didn't respond, turning and heading toward the bedroom. I followed her.

"I don't care where you've been," I said. "I love you."

In the bedroom, I pulled her to me, trying to kiss her. She held her lips tight. I ran my hands over her body, but there was no reaction.

"I want to make love to you," I said "Not now."

When I insisted, she said, "It'll be rape if you do this." We argued for a while and then I left. Later that night, I returned. I didn't want her to hear the Jeep, so I parked on the street, and let myself in through the side gate. I turned off the alarm and slipped into the house.

I found her sleeping in the bathroom on the floor, Willy, our Doberman, lying by her side. She was having hardwood floors installed throughout the house, and the bedroom furniture was in storage. I begged her to make love with me one more time.

She agreed to make love if I promised this would be the last time and I would leave immediately afterward and never bother her again.

"Don't make it one of your long ones," she said.

We made love in the bathroom, on the floor, Willy remaining beside us, sniffing and scratching.

After we finished I tried to arouse her again.

"You promised," she cried. "You said you'd leave if I did it with you."

She crawled out from under me, frantically

Let me just hold you for a minute," I begged.

"No," she screamed.

Willy was cowering in the corner, trembling.

"Okay!" I said. "Calm down! I'm leaving."

I reached for her, but she jumped back. "I'm sorry, Priscilla. Sorry it ended this way." "Me, too," she said. "Please go now."

The chill of those words, "Please go now," went straight to my heart. I stood up and looked down at her, lying on the bathroom floor. Her hair and face were a mess. She looked like someone on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I remembered that same little girl, years earlier, presenting herself to me, freshly showered and made up. I couldn't believe that two people could get so screwed up.

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