:: Start Over ::

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-PSA- These stories are NOT DalKenzie short stories. No. I do not ship DalKenzie at all. Don't take them the wrong way. They're literally just stories with Mac and Dalton being friends. Now read it, yeah?

*purely fictional*

Hi, I'm MacKenzie Bourg. I just got voted off American Idol, lost a couple guitar picks in the washing machine, and found out that I ruined many people's lives. Here's another story.

"MacKenzie, you forgot one." Dalton said, glumly collecting picks around the hotel room.
"Oh...thanks." I say as Dalton hands the pink sparkle to him. I was voted off; leaving Dalton, Trent Harmon, and La'Porsha Renae to the finale. Dalton believed that he was going to get voted off next, but I wouldn't hear it. Earlier we were arguing over Dalton's lack of confidence.
"I'm totally getting voted off next..." Dalton said, looking to the ground.
"Seriously?! You're the best here!" I replied, angrily folding shirts.
Dalton looked up, sighs, and looks down again. "I need a song to sing. A good one. I need to go out with a bang."
At this point, I was ignoring him and his negativity.
"Why is Dalton so unconfident? He's in the Top Three. He's going to win." I muttered to myself, continuing to neatly fold shirts.

Later that day, I was cleaning up the last of the picks, when I found Dalton's lyric journal under his bed.
I'm not going to read it, no, I don't need to know his personal business, nope, just put it down, MacKenzie, put it down. I told myself. But still...Dalton was such a mysterious person, it couldn't be that bad to know more, yeah? Looking around, I cautiously opened the cover. I read the first song written.

It was so...pretty. Beautiful, even. I wish I could write as well as him. When I turned to the next page, I read something unexpected. It was my story. My story. The one I didn't want anyone to know about.

I know I shouldn't have, but I ripped the page out. I knew I shouldn't have told him. I shut the journal, shoved it back under his bed, and turned around, tearing up as I crumpled up the paper.

He was there.

Dalton was in the doorway, hurt and betrayal in his eyes.
"How..." He said, breathing quickly. "You read my journal? Why?" His face was like broken glass; the usual happiness in his eyes was shattered by my stupid decisions.
"Dalton..." I began before he turned and ran out of the room, leaving a scattered trail of salty tears.

I followed him, shedding my own tears at my ruining of another's life.

I found him under the stairs of the hotel. His arms were wrapped around his legs, and in his hand- the purple picks with the little M's. A good-bye gift.
He looks up, eyeliner running. "You read my journal. You read my journal. Why? Why did you do it? Why did you do it, MacKenzie?"
"I-" I trail off. Why did I do it? Well, I wanted to know why he was this way. If he truly was a vampire. Why he wears eyeliner. I...I wanted to help him. Gosh, I am so dumb sometimes. I hurt him more now.
"It's just..." I start again, but stop. He looks down again, knowing I'm not ever going to answer.
"Here," he says, handing me the picks, "You might need this to forget it all." He looks at me knowingly. I nod slowly, a tear spilling from my eye. He sighs and closes his eyes.
"MacKenzie, I...just...goodbye. I-" He says, resting his forehead on his knees.
"Goodbye, Dalton. I'm sorry that..." I reply, not daring to finish the sentence, for I'm afraid I will break down. While walking to the room to get my bags, I step on something. I reach down to get it.

A crumpled piece of paper. I unwrinkled it, then read the title.

"Forget." I continued to read.

"Forget it all. Everyone you've accidentally hurt. Everything that's happened. Forget. You don't need to remember. You're the only one who knows. You're in control. Don't remember it. It doesn't matter anymore. Just forget. Everyone may have a story, but you, you don't need to have one.

Make your own path. Don't let the past control you.

MacKenzie, just forget. You don't need a story; you need a legacy. Make it yourself.

Forget them. Forget her. Forget me.

Start over."

I leaned on the wall for support.

Start over...start over...

Hi, I'm MacKenzie Bourg. I just bought an apartment, started writing a book, and got a new job at a hospital. Here's my legacy.

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