Fireworks In My Heart
And he knows it.
And he’s about to prove it.
"So you'd take a bullet before you give me your heart, is that it sweetheart?" His voice is heavier , darker, and his Russian accent is dripping from his voice.
I don’t say anything as I lower my eyes.
Silence becomes my last piece of defiance.
I won’t ever give you my heart, you bastard. You can chain my body, cage my freedom, choke every breath I take—
but my heart? My feelings? That is the one thing still mine, the last piece of me untouched by him. And I won’t let him steal that too.