This is probably the most random piece of shit I've written recently. But I like the idea behind it, at the very least….ack, why do I have such an inability to write more than five hundred words? Then again, this is under the premise of a phone call, so it's not as bad.

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Bella, honey – it's so good to talk to you again, it's been so long…Charlie said that he keeps meaning to call, but you know how he is…So busy, with all that's been going on in Forks, it's gotten to be a busy little place for such a boring, rainy town…What's that? Oh, yes, I'm sure you…ah…miss Forks, sweetheart. Maybe you'll get to go…back...soon, after…well, after all this is over and done. After everything that's going on right now is dead and in the grave.

Oh, Phil and I are doing fine, thank you for asking. He's gotten signed, and we think that this is going to be a bit more permanent, so we're looking for houses to rent, or even buy around Jacksonville…oh. Well, yes, I realize that you don't like…the sun…anymore, but I'm sure that if you come home, you'd like the places we're looking at, dear. Really, we found the cutest little house, where you'd have your own bathroom and every…yes, dear. I understand. But when you do come home –

Alright, alright. I suppose we should move onto a different topic. How are you doing, Bella? Are you…are you getting over…

Oh, honey.

Oh, Bella. Sweetheart.

I know that the doctors said that you'd get over it in your own time, but…but it's been so long, dear. It's been nearly four years now, and you still…Bella, sweetheart, we've told you that he's not….this "Edward" of yours doesn't….exist.

Bella! I realize that you needed him, that after the plane crash, you needed something to comfort you, something to hold on to…it must have been scary, not really understanding what was going on…But I can't do this any longer, Bella. I can't let you continue to be in love with a figment of your imagination…Charlie says that you're even saying that this made-up boy is a vampire. Sweetheart…he's not real. There's no such thing as vampires…Why can't you just understand that you made it all up?

Bella…you are Isabella Marie Swan, my daughter, Charlie Swan's daughter. You were going to live with your father – goodness knows why, you always hated visiting his house over the summer – and your plane crashed. For a few weeks, you didn't….wouldn't wake up, and when you did, you couldn't remember things very well for a few days. Oh, sweetheart, it was hell…And then, once you started recognizing us…the stories….The first thing you said to me when you woke up was "Where is he?"

I thought you meant your father. But…but when I brought him, you were still upset, raving about how you needed this Edward of yours…Why can't you just understand that you made all of this up?

Oh, Bella. I understand…in a way…but….

I'll call again later. I'm sure you have an appointment with your therapist soon.

Goodbye, Bella. I love you.