Scratched Record-

Disclaimer- I do not own the story book or movie, A Clockwork Orange or its characters.

Plot Summary- Alex fancies a girl who works at the record shop he goes to. However, the girl well pretty and music literate, is too pure and trusting. Will Alex take advantage of the young lady? Or will she be an exception to everything he has always stood for?

Chapter 3: Seeing Red

Alex tapped on the glass window of the closed record shop. He was about five minutes later than he had told Ophelia. He would have thought she had gone home without him, except the lights were still on inside the shop.

She appeared faintly from around the corner and waved, then converting her signal to a one sign. Alex nodded and waited for her to come out. He had decided to dress in his night time fashions despite telling his droogs to go without him tonight. More people appeared afraid of him when he was dressed like a hell raiser as opposed to when he was dressed in his day time English fashions. Ophelia emerged a few minutes later, dressed not in her work uniform as she turned off the lights. Alex, who hadn't notice the real difference last night, noticed it now.

This night, she was wearing a red jumpsuit that better showed the curves of her body as well as the smaller, yet nicely rounded bust she had. To protect herself from the cold, she was wearing a black over jacket that attempted to hide that which Alex was tempted to see. He sized her up with approval; defiantly a step up from the previous night. "Sorry to keep you waiting Alex, are you sure you don't mind walking me home?"

"Viddy nothing of it, sister." Alex said, offering his arm to her. With a white smile, she looped her arm through his. "Though, is home where you desire ye droog to take you? The nochy is still ripe after all."

"Well, tomorrow is my day off." Ophelia considered, holding on to the smooth black jacket he wore. "What did you have in mind?"

Alex hadn't much considered it, and he didn't think any of his usual places would suit the innocent blonde. Which placed him in the same situation he was with his droogs, for entirely different reasons. "I have nothing to vareet, what do you viddy, Oppie-feelie-ah."

"I know of a jazz club nearby. I haven't been in awhile but since you enjoy music so much, it could be fun. Does that suit you, Alex?"

Jazz? He recalled it as the genre that had gone out not long after his parents were born (followed by the prime of their music disco). He had heard few songs from the Jazz genre but couldn't recall if he liked it or not. "Privodeet, sister."

()

The Jazz cafe was live with the chatter of other people and light music. Alex was not particularly comfortable yet, but didn't hate the sounds he was hearing. The bass reminded him of his beloved classical music and the voices (sometimes male, sometimes female) sang perfectly but quietly in tune.

Ophelia sipped on her red wine, every now and again bopping her head to the music. Alex wasn't sure what surprised him more; that she was drinking, that she was old enough to drink, or that she trusted him enough to drink in his presence. Of course, one glass of wine wasn't going to make someone skunk drunk, but any sort of intoxication could be dangerous around him.

"Do you like this music? I wasn't sure if you would, you seem so committed to Beethoven."

Alex shrugged. "I viddy it horrorshow enough. They aren't so choodessny as the greats are, but anyone hardly slooshys it in these times." He noticed how she tried to hide her shock to keep from making a scene once more. "And what of your tastes, Oppie-feelie-ah? Do thee find this warble oh so very horrorshow?"

"Oh yes! But I have sort of a love for all music, much like my father did. He use to bring me here all the time." Ophelia stated.

"What about your skolliwoll, then?" He asked. Not that he had any room to talk. He barely went to school himself during those days; never even really graduated. It was the sort of place that bore him really. Ophelia appeared confused by that word. "School."

"Oh, I'm sorry. They don't talk about that much at the record shop. For obvious reasons." She commented with a giggle. Alex couldn't help but smile—how easily entertained she was by his language, and how reactive she was to his life. The smile faded from her face almost instantly though. He, even being not so easy to understand human emotion, immediately realize he hit a rough spot. "I've been homeschooled all my life. I've never even set foot in a normal school. Which I suppose is both a blessing and a curse. I managed to graduate a year ahead of schedule and I got to spend a lot of time with my father before he passed on, but… It's made it rather difficult for me to be social… This is the first time I've been out with a friend before."

It did seem a little less confusing to him. So this was why little Ophelia was so easy to trust him and his intentions; she really didn't know any better. "So, ye pe is no longer among you?"

She shook her head. "Nor is my mother, but not in the same sense. She left home while I was just a toddler. I don't even have a real memory of her. But my father mourned her like dead for so many years…I think it was why he clung to me so." Watching as Alex scratched his chin in interest, Ophelia smiled a bit again. "What of your parents, Alex? Alive? Together? Divorced?"

"Both alive and still together." He said simply. It was odd when you thought about it. How he could have the perfect model of a family and he'd be the villain, while Ophelia had a deceased parent and one that had left home while she was young, and grew up to be the person she ended becoming. "Both devoted to their careers and interests, as am I."

"Oh, so…you don't spend a lot of time with them?" Alex shook his head, making Ophelia not quite frown, but not smile either. "I should have guessed so. Forgive me, but you don't seem like the type of bloke to be interested in what his parents are up to. Do you still live with them?"

"Indeed I do. It's not so baddiwad. Em keeps the domy clean. Pe keeps his viddy in his own gulliver. So it's not so drone and rabbit." Alex commented.

A bit of a faster song came on, but Ophelia didn't change the rhythm of her head movement. She did however tap her nails perfectly to the beat much like the drummer on stage. Alex, caught on to the beat quickly, and tapped along with his boot. They gave each other a knowing look of enjoyment.

Ophelia's look changed to confusion. "Alex, the people over there won't stop staring at you…"

Alex turned just in time to see a couple, just about his parents age, looking away so not to be caught. His clothing was less than subtle—it was obvious he was more of the hellion type, but usually the people would know better than to draw the attention of a rough houser like him.

No, they were staring at him because they recognized him from the papers more than a year ago. Not so many did now, but occasionally someone would spot him and know him as the reformed man who nearly killed himself. "I shive the fear of bog or god in them. A droogie like your Uncle Alex—it causes the chellovecks some razdrez."

"But…" She started but closed her mouth, folding her hands in her lap. Deciding perhaps it was better to leave this subject alone.

He encouraged her. "Yes, Oppie-feelie-ah?"

"They're all afraid of you. The boys from last night, the people over there...And in the shop; I see people who are terrified of you, even when you're not dressed as you are now." Alex was yet again, surprised by her and how observant she had been when usually, her attention was easily lost. Then again, he mused, she's had plenty of time to notice.

Curiosity made him wonder if she'd be so kind to him if she knew what he really did when he wasn't saving little rabbit girls or listening to Beethoven. What she would do if he took off her veil and showed her his blood red hands. Another side of him didn't want her to know; another side wanted to keep that look of innocence in her eyes. "Do thy pony at all what kind of baddiwad yours truly has committed, sister? The vred I've caused? How horrowshow it is to me? I've done things your polly money malenky gulliver couldn't wrap itself around."

Ophelia looked at him with wide eyes before whispering. "I've heard of the things…" She bit her lips, unsure of if she should finish. She could see the temper rising in his eyes, the insecurity folding itself in around him. He was coiling up like a python just when she was enjoying him most.

"Go on then, sister. You started it, now finish it." He said through his impatient teeth.

She cleared her throat and spoke in a nervous voice. "People like you do. I know what you're capable of, Alex."

If only she knew—no one could begin to understand what he was capable of. Whether she choose to believe it or not, he was more than able to hurt her, rape her, and even kill her if he so desired. The only difference between him and most other bad men was that he knew he was evil—he knew it and he accepted it.

But something swirled in his stomach. Very similar to the kind of feeling the drug caused so long ago, only it felt more…natural. The idea of causing her harm made him feel sick. How could a person cause such feelings? Someone you had just met not long ago? There was nothing special about her, he reminded himself. She was just a harmless creature. Vulnerable. Like the rabbit to his snake. The thought that she of all people could cause these feelings. It made him angry.

It made him want to show her just how capable he was.

Alex reached across the table and grabbed her wrist, standing as he did so. "Come along, Oppie-feeling-ah, let's gooly, shall we?"

Sirens went off in her head. She was brought up from her seat and forced follow as they walked toward the back exit. Her feet picked up the pace to keep up with him, but she tried to pull her arm back. He was squeezing her wrist, making it ache. Her voice muttered his name quietly, trying to snap him out of his trance. It didn't matter if he had saved her the night before; she didn't much like the way his eyes turned with red.

The black ally outside was empty as Alex thrusted her out the door. Ophelia stumbled but managed to stop herself from falling. "Alex, what are you doing?"

Her voice drifted when she stood and saw him prowling towards her. His seemingly friendly face was once again cursed with that dangerous smile of his. "Well, well, Oppie-feelie-ah, what's gotten you all razdrez all of the sudden? Does Uncle Alex frighten you?"

With every step he took, she took a step back. She did this until her back hit the wall. She tried to take off, but Alex pushed his body against hers—paralyzing her with fear. "Are you afraid of him, sister?"

He chuckled just inches away from her face. In this light, she wasn't nearly as plain as he had originally thought her. Actually—her pale skin, whiting all the more from terror, along with her wide, beautiful scared eyes just made him desire her. Suddenly, the rush he had been missing from his late nights with his droogs; the very addicting feeling of evil came back to him. Could feel his body respond to the way hers shivered against his. His pleasure was being pulsed by his fear.

It was a lesson she needed to learn. Alex De Large was not a hero—and he was not incapable. "Alex …" Tears prickled through her eyes. One fell down her face, as she struggled to find her voice. "Alex, you're scaring me!"

He leaned over and licked the tear from her face, swiping his thumb over where it had fallen. "Don't platch at me devotchka." No Oppie-feelie-ah anymore. He didn't personalize victims—he never should have in the first place. "Come on, sister! Don't make this so easy for your Uncle! Clop him! Razrezz him! Give him something drats for!"

His excitement and anger boiled over at her silence. He grabbed the collar of her jumpsuit and shook her. "Creech for bogsake. Go ahead, malenky rabbit…" His mind laughing at his metaphor being put to use. "Do something to your master—make him viddy a reason not to in-out, in-out with you right now. Do it!"

He had expect her hands to try and pulled him away. For them to paw or claw at him and try to force them away. In his sick twisted way, he had wanted that. He wanted her to know better. To take a bite of the apple and see their pathetic Eden for what it was. Oblivion.

Instead, her lips landed on his face. She swallowed her sob and leaned in closing the gap between them. Her lips landed on his; so subtle and gentle that he couldn't comprehend what she had done.

He had never really kissed a woman before in the romantic sense. He might have pressed his lips to a pair belonging to his victim or perhaps a willing participant just to keep her going. But that was all for the sake of getting off. Never before had he known the name of the woman he kissed; let alone, having her initiate it. And while he could tell that Ophelia, so pure and virgin, hadn't kissed many men. The warmth that started at his lips and carried throughout his body was pleasing in a way he couldn't have before fathomed. It didn't fulfill him physically, or rock his world; but it seem to lift him almost to a different place so far away from this one. It was at least compelling enough for him to kiss her back.

But when it broke; it became cold. His evil intentions floated away and he was left with only the sick feeling and a tearstained face but calm Ophelia in front of him. With a wide-eyed and shocked expression, he no longer saw red or felt a desire to harm the girl. If anything, he was confused by where these feelings had gone in the first place.

He stepped away from her. Ophelia sighed her relief as she moved from the wall. "Come along, sister." He said just barely above a whisper. "I shall gooly ye home before you make me bezoomny."