Run through with Blade

You enter the floor by the lift. As the rusty gate opens, you raise
your pistol and quickly scan the landing. On your left, a small balcony
stops you from falling five hundred metres to the waste-littered street
below. A cool evening breeze ruffles the collar of your synthetic coat
and prickles your neck. Something is wrong.
You look to the door across the landing. It leads to your apartment. A
memory stirs and you hear Rachel playing that melody on your piano; a
worthless antique of a nearly forgotten age. You move towards the door.
It stands ajar and you can hear the dusty paperwork of your 'last ever'
case being stirred by the breeze whipping round the door frame. You
push it open and return your right hand to supporting your left and
increasing the amount of sweat trickling down the cold, hard, bluntness
of the gun's handle. You hear yourself call her name to the waiting
apartment. No answer.
Holding the pistol at the ready, you walk silently into the apartment,
scanning the musty hall and covering the distance between the door and
the interior room with ease. Whipping round the intersecting wall, your
gun-barrel reflecting the warm glow of the automatic light as it
helpfully illuminates the area, you take you take in everything; the
fan stirring dust, the video replaying a clip over and over again, and
Rachel lying on the bed, her face covered by a soft scarf. Your right
hand reaches out, the broken fingers twitching painfully, lifting the
coat gingerly to reveal her beautiful face. Your heart misses a beat.
You are too late. A sigh of mourning escapes the confines of your lips
as you bury your face in her smooth, dark hair.
She stirs. You lift your head. Your eyes meet. She smiles. You suddenly
realise that it's the most beautiful thing that you have ever seen in
your remembered life. But there is no time for that now.
You motion her to follow you. You move on to the landing, finding a
target. There is none. You look back. She is silhouetted in the
doorway. You motion her to the lift. As she hurries towards the open
gates, you notice something on the floor. Picking the minature unicorn
up from the floor, your mind races over everything that has happened.
You remember seeing that same unicorn in so many waking dreams. His
voice echoes back from the windswept rooftop, "It's too bad she wont
live. But then again, who does?"