Revolver; sad story

A gun shot wrapped it's arms around me,
my attention desprite,
to reach the apartment,
room 112,
I rushed out of my blue living room,
into the pale hallway,
the dead silence making my ears ring,
my nerves make my legs shake,
I almost collapse as I reach room 112,
opening the door I find the weapon,
that play thing she used,
the couch is covered in blacl blood,
the substence already soaking in,
panic sets in,
I rush over the blood soaked couch,
blood runs up to my knees of my jeans,
I land with a wet plop,
I stand in one of the many pools,
my eyes search,
so frantic,
I head for the bedroom,
my feet slip in the blood,
my white shirt turned tie dye,
my body dyed red,
nothing can break this nervousness,
I finally get up to rush into the bedroom,
blood on all the pink walls and bed,
no body in sight,
I turn to go to the bathroom,
blood trails fingers down the mirror and sink,
splots of blood pools everywhere,
my distastful laughter fills the white room,
I decide to check the last room,
haunted by my fears,
I open the door,
this wooden door of hell and distrust,
how far would you go for love,
would you like to see this room,
hate as black a night,
filling this room,
of blood covered walls,
her hair hung over the over-stuffed chair,
a natural red,
long infront and short in back,
as I look closer I notice her eyes,
blinking up at me as blood gushing out of her neck leaks everywhere,
her lips are moving,
I kneel by her perfectly shaped models body,
she breaths with pain,
"forgive me, your like a sister",
she whispers,
she doesn't even know me,
her long fragile fingers trace my jawline,
"I couldn't end it",
she continues quickly,
I run my hand through her hair,
to realize glass is everywhere in her head,
she chokes loudly abd her body dies,
I run my hand in her bloody throat,
I see the killer,
as I rise up and head for the door,
I see I'm next,
my sad story is going to end.