Rhapsody in Blood Red

A local band somberly played a melancholy tune as Sarah gazed upon the instruments in the music store. Her eyes were set upon a beautiful, glimmering, golden saxophone sitting on a pedestal in the window. The shimmering, shining surface glittered in the midday light. 
"So are you just going to browse, or actually buy something?" a voice said from behind her. Sarah turned around to find her boyfriend, Mark, staring at her with a smug smile on his face. 
"You know I can't afford it, Mark," she said, her voice wavering with disappointment.
"I'm sure you'll get it someday..." he said reassuringly, patting her back. 
"Yeah... I guess," she said, feeling a little better, "We better get going now, huh?"
"Yeah, you wouldn't want to catch a cold in this weather," he laughed, draping a blanket over Sarah's ice-cold shoulders. Sarah slowly lifted herself off the ground and started the long journey to her apartment. 
The fresh winter breeze gushed through the seams of her makeshift overcoat as she shambled home. The snow was settling and she estimated that the snowfall was around 2-3 inches. She had to get home. As the brisk breeze transformed into a wrathful wind, she stumbled upon the familiar street. Her hands cold, her face purple, she slowly climbed up the steps into her house.
"Come on, let's get you by the fire," Mark said, his hands and face suggesting that he required it as well. "A-alright..." Sarah said, huddling next to Mark in front of the fireplace. As she was huddled next to Mark, she remembered why she loved him so. Mark, sensing his love's embrace, wrapped his arms around her in an embrace not for warmth, but for comfort. There they hugged for hours, no words uttered from either of their lips. 
Sarah laid down in her bed that night, insomnia amplifying the thoughts in her head. She needed that saxophone. She had no idea why, but she wanted it. She looked left to see Mark sleeping soundly next to her. She gave him a light kiss on the cheek, and then quietly rose from her bed; being very careful not to not wake him up. 
The hallway was surprisingly quiet... where was her cat? Usually at this hour Mittens would claw at her; practically crying to feed her. And yet, Mittens wasn't anywhere to be found. The corridor was dark, ominous, and Sarah had a strange feeling, almost like there were eyes transfixed on her at every bend, every corner. As she took step after precarious step, the hallway gave a loud creak. Floorboards creaking, dripping from the bathroom sink, the feeling rising in the pit of Sarah's stomach didn't cease. It only grew. Just then, a small crash was heard from the living room! Sarah, nearly jumping out of her boots, raced to the room to see what had caused it.
Mittens was playing around in Sarah's emergency food stash. Of course Mittens was hungry. She reached into the big bag o' cat food and dumped a bit into the food bowl she had engraved Mitten's name into herself. Mittens let out an excited meow and started inhaling the food like a foodaholic at a Golden Corral. Sarah let out a sigh of relief; for a second she thought someone was in her house other than her and Mark. 
After getting a glass of warm milk for herself, and letting Mittens finish the rest, she was about to head back to bed when she thought she saw something strange from under her TV table. A faint, golden glimmer. As she got closer, she could hear her cat hissing at whatever it was. Sarah reached under the table, her hand getting enveloped in the dark shadow of the table's wide figure. She grabbed onto the cold hard metal of that saxophone she saw in the shop and pulled it out. The engraving was the same, the shiny lacquer of the instrument reflecting Sarah's confused expression.
How could this be? She didn't buy the saxophone, and Mark didn't have much money to spare either! So... how is it here? 
"What's going on, Sarah?" said Mark groggily, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as the lights flickered on. "Mark, did you buy this for me?" Sarah asked, confusion enveloping her facial features. "No, I didn't. Did you?" Mark asked, his expression changed from sleep-deprived to confused. "No... I didn't. So how is it here?" Sarah asked, hoping Mark might have an answer. One look at his face told her everything she needed to know. 
"Sarah, did you steal it while I was sleeping?" Mark asked, his eyes slightly narrowing with suspicion. "W-what?! Why would you suggest such a thing?!" Sarah yelled, offended at the very notion that she could've done such a thing.
"Sarah, look behind you."
Sarah turned around to see the police driving up to her house, parking on both grass and concrete. Her face blanched as the police knocked on the door.
"Ms. Sarah Holma? Are you there? We'd like to have a word with you."
Sarah opened the door, only to see the officers holding cuffs. "Sarah Holma, you are under arrest for robbery of the local pawn shop downtown. You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the rights I have just read to you?"
Sarah, confused and disoriented, asked "I understand, but why do you think it was me? I didn't steal anything!" 
"This security tape begs to disagree," the officer said, showing her a security tape of her entering the shop and then running out with the saxophone.
"W-what?! That isn't me! Please, I'm innocent! You have to believe me!" Sarah yelled, not believing what was happening.
As the two officers took Sarah to the vehicle, one officer entered the house and led Mark out so he could investigate. The officer was tasked with looking for the saxophone, but he never did. Mark was arrested shortly after for second degree murder of an officer and hiding valuable evidence. He made similar pleas to Sarah saying that it wasn't him, and even went as far as saying that the saxophone did it. The saxophone was nowhere to be found when the officers arrested Mark. The only evidence of it ever being there was a blood stain in the shape of a saxophone. 
Category:Deletion Log Refugees
Category:Bad Creepypasta
Category:DIALOGUE!
Category:Well, that was anticlimactic.
Category:That just raises more questions!
Category:Pages with grammar that doesn't suck