One of President Bill Clinton's former mistresses fears the Clinton campaign could attempt to assassinate her and stage it to appear as a suicide.

On Saturday, author and former Miss Arkansas Sally Miller, also known as Myra Belle "Sally" Miller or Sally Perdue, posted a message alerting friends that she fears for her life.

"In this election year, if you read I died….by committing suicide….don't believe it," Miller told friends via a Facebook post.

The former beauty queen claims she's been familiar with the Clinton's intimidation tactics since the 90s, during which she was physically threatened by a Clinton operative.

"It's been well established, but underreported by American media, that Hillary Clinton unleashed her operatives, including Ron Tucker, to threaten Miller beginning in 1992," reports Jack Dennis for Examiner.com.

"Soon after she began talking to the press during the first year of Bill Clinton's presidency, at a meeting in a restaurant with Tucker, Miller was told to be a 'good little girl' and was offered a federal job. If she didn't accept the offer, 'then they knew if I went jogging by myself and couldn't guarantee what would happen to my pretty little legs,' Miller recalled. 'Things just wouldn't be so fun for me anymore. Life would get hard.'"

According to Miller's latest Facebook post, she believes she's being monitored while at her home and followed when she visits the park.

The signs are evident— I'm being followed. I'm being inundated with Facebook requests from young, handsome men in search of an older woman, and my phone rings with numbers listed as "unknown." No messages, only more" unknown" phone calls. For no reason, a writer and neighbor who never so much as waved in the 8 years I've lived here… wants to be my friend, visit me, come into my house and share her writing tips. Now, on my early morning visits to the doggie park, men driving trucks with dark windows, stop to ask directions. Recently I watched two men video-taping the area and they laughingly pointed their camera in my direction. Today, looking out my window, I noted two cars driving slowing by my house. In a few minutes they returned to drive past again. The drivers were hidden behind dark windows. True, my house is for sale but in my neighborhood— two cars driving past my house at the same time— constitutes a traffic jam. Small signals but, remembering the past with its crazy—and deadly—coincidences, I have every reason to be concerned— all over again.