My name is Miracle, but do not ever call me that please. I am mainly known as Ira. I have a sister called Blake. We are twins. She is the violent one and I am the calm one out of us both. I think I need to be to make up for Blake. She very rarely holds in her anger and is only a few seconds older than me. When I say that, I mean it. We were born three seconds apart and the nurses were barely ready for me. We are both thirteen. I wish that I could say that we have loving and caring parents who are always there for us, but I cannot. We are care kids and have been for a vast majority of our lives. Our dad is in prison for murder and our mum is so miserable that she cannot bear to look after us. Well, at least that's what our social worker: Jane, told us. I do not really believe her, but what else do I have to believe. Blake keeps telling me and telling me that it is true, but I think that she wants to believe it and nothing else. The truth stings. Just a warning before I hand the book and pen to my sister, she is not one for politeness. Basically, she swears a lot, so yeah...
