My mother was sweet, and she loved to cook for us. She'd cook the most delicious food you could think of. She'd always smell of some freshly baked meal.

She loved to bake as well. I remember eating the loads of muffins, cakes, pies; they were all delicious, too.

For some reason I never gained a pound, though, and I only had my mother and my father to share the food with, for I was an only child.

She had beautiful hair, my mother did. Brown and straight, and she always kept it in a neat bun behind her head. Her cheeks were filled with color, and she had crow's feet from smiling so much. From so much smilng, her green eyes had adopted a warm and inviting look. She had not the slightest hint toward obesity, and she ate just as much as any of us.

My father was a wonderful man. He made very much money at his job, though I never did know what his occupation was. He'd come home in his suit, briefcase in his right hand, down jacket in his left. "I'm home!" he'd announce, and give my mother a kiss on the cheek as she closed the oven, or stirred something up in the pots on the stove.

He had blue eyes, warm and inviting. They were just like mother's, crows feet and all. He had brown hair, too; always straight and combed to one side. If not for t he bone structure, my mother and father would look as though they were brother and sister.

Remember your past, Irah. Find your real memories. If you don't have your memories, how can you be sure who you really are? ...

A faint voice said this in the back of my mind... Azura, that was her name; the woman I had once loved...

Love... we had this, and we were only seventeen when our affair began. Some might think it too young too feel love, but we were certainly not to have experienced it.

She was right. All I really know about myself is that my name is Irah Nielson, I am of the male species, I am six feet and one and one-half inch tall, I have brown hair, blue eyes, and I am currently nineteen.

"OK, Azura... I'll try." And I sat for a few minutes... I was held in deep thought, and I had nothing but fake memories come to mind...

How did I know which ones were fake, and which ones were real? I had made my mind believe that the memories I held were real for so long, I don't even know if I'm telling the truth when someone asks me a question about my past.

Yes, there is one other thing I know about myself. I have the ability to make my mind believe anything I want it to, and I'm not talking about believeng in God or anything like that; I've developed a kind of will power to make my mind erase the memories that I don't wish to remember, and replace them with more pleasant ones - ones that I have made up. I make my mind believe them as if they were real, and therefore, my body believes it was real as well.

I fell out of a tree in our back yard when I was ten. I can still remember the pain in my arm when I broke it.

Dig deep in your mind, Irah. I know you still have the memories, you just have to find them...

I finally have something! What am I talking about, breaking my arm when I fell out of a tree in our backyard? We didn't even have a back yard, let alone a tree there...

We were in an apartment building... I lived in an apartment as a child... What did it look like?

The image of a mangled body flashed in my mind. I caught my breath at the sight of this, but I held on to it. My gut told me that this was a memory that I attempted to erase.

It moved toward me, and most likely this was my movement towards it.

I walked slowly... I feel a fear... a fear of seeing the face throught the tangle of hair. I said something... I know I did... What did I say?

I was afraid here, afraid to see the face; to see whom this was... though in the pit of my stomach the identity of this person was obvious...

Who was it? I was unable to remember this, though I remember the distinct feeling of having this knowledge.

I was now exhausted. I glanced at the clock on my bedside table. It read 2:25 a.m. Strange as it may sound, that little bit of past took me about three and one-half hours to remember.

I now lay in my bed. My comforter was in a bunch next to me. I had not made my bed this morning, the one one befored that, and the one before that. Come to think of it, I had not made my bed for quite some time now.

However, it did't matter at the moment, for I was going to be dreaming in a few minutes anyway. I closed my eyes and I let a deep sleep come over me, almost at an instant... at least I think...