The Music Box-

Disclaimer: I do not own the book or movie, A Clockwork Orange.

Plot Summary- Many years after Scratched Record; Alex De Large is still a loving husband and devoted father. But when his now teenage children have new secrets and old ones come up, will it destroy the loving family?

Alex closed the door. The place was dark, the only light peeking through the curtains as he took in the sight of his house.

Home. A pure home. A safe home.

After discarding his jacket, he climbed the creaky stairs to check on his children before returning to his wife. His beautiful Ophelia usually waited for him, but had to meet with a 'very important figure' the next morning and couldn't do so. Being almost midnight, his son, 15-year-old Johan, and daughter, 12-year-old Clara, would no doubt be asleep.

Yet, as he opened the door to Clara's room, he realized in a panic that the door had already been opened earlier. Not so long ago, as her music box still played.

"What are you doing, here?" The young man could barely peer through his swollen black eye. Every bone and muscle ached as he recalled the brutal beating he had received by the enemies of his gang. His back pushed against the sign so he could look through his good eye.

A girl, a young one at that. In the darkness of night, her lunar-blonde hair curled but was pulled away from her narrow face. Her eyes either sterling blue or aqua green—he couldn't quite tell under her mess of hair. A grey coat easily over-lapped her slim body—it belonged to one of her parents no doubt. She leaned down, trying to take a better inventory of her injuries. "What happened to you?"

He chuckled and pulled away at the touch. The girl seemed almost offended as she scoffed backwards. The young man spoke. "Malchicks a little devotchka like yourself would never dare to filly with."

The girl huffed. "Stop talking so funny! And don't call me a 'devotchka'." She mocked. The young man laughed. He had met his fair share of mouthy women, but never once expected it from such a young girl. "You have no reason to be here! This is my home."

The young man appeared amused. "Well, girly, if I didn't know any better, I might say this was your first outing."

"Alex?" Ophelia sleepily murmured as Alex stomped into their bedroom. Her usually reserved husband had the look of a frightened man on his face. "Alex, what's wrong?"

"Clara, she's gone. Checked the whole damn house, and she's gone!" Alex said frantically. "The gangs are gallivanting around too."

"How can you be sure?" Ophelia jumped out of bed quickly. Alex opened the curtains.

"I saw them dump one boy on my way in…A recent hazing. If this house wasn't so secure, I may well, say they had taken her." In the distance he saw it, a wave of blonde standing near that damned 'Home' sign. "But you know how she is."

Ophelia looked from behind Alex and looked relieved. "Oh thank god…Just being mischievous like you."

A light farther off in the distance set Alex's sense off once more. "Yes…and that's exactly what I'm afraid of."

"I…Well…" The girl flipped her hair forward to hide her blush. The young man might have raised his eye-brows if he wasn't in so much pain. "I've never been out before. My father never lets me out."

"How old are ye girly?" The young man asked.

"12." The girl quietly responded. He was taken back, she looked so much younger. She was only three years younger than he was.

"Some advice, eh? Don't talk to vecks like me. We're only trouble."

They were suddenly interrupted by the loud roar of honking and laughter. The girl's head turned. The young man's heart dropped; they had come back.

"What is that?"

"Vecks like me." The girl instinctively reached out and grabbed the young man's hand. Pulled him up on his aching legs.

"Come on! This way!"

The young man, not wanting to receive a second bashing, followed the young girl. The headlights fell on them as the car swerved off the road.

"Clara!" A loud yell came. The girl instinctively changed direction away from it, towards the woods up ahead.

"Keep up!" The young girl shouted as they head towards the forest near by.

They thrashed through the woods, past where the car would be able to find them. The young man clasped just as they reached the opening. The girl weak kneed and out of breath fell forward.

"Ye alright, Girly?" The girl nodded her head and brushed away another lock of hair. "That eemya that was called….Clara. Is that yours?"

The girl nodded and picked herself off the ground. She looked at him with something deep in her eyes. Something that suggested that somehow, the last person in the world she wanted to be was the name that was called.

The young man tried to take pity on her. "My eemya is…"

He cut off by the loud chuckles coming forward. "Luddy! Where are thou! Come filly with your droogs!"

Clara startled and tumbled over to the young man. He toward over her, but she wasn't much smaller than his sister, who was 2 years older than he. It was her angelic appearance that made her look so young and so pure. Something that would be shattered if the gang found her. Something the young man didn't want to happen.

He knew he was somewhat different from the others. More intelligent, but less aggressive. Unlike his friends, his parents were not easy on him. Just the opposite. His druggie father had made his life a living hell. The streets felt more like home than his true home did. He sympathized with this child who so obviously, was running from an deeper demon. Because in a way, he was the same.

"Let's go." He started guiding her towards the right. "Come on, hurry before-"

"There! Get him!"

The young man gave Clara a hard push just as the gang emerged. Clara tripped over a log and fell to the ground. After composing herself she peered over the log to see the young man being held by two of the bangers, the other one beating him senseless. Clara covered her mouth to stopped the surprised sounds from emerging.

"Hey, didn't he have a devotchka with him?" At the mention of her, Clara panicked and crawled away. Once far enough she took off in a run, leaving behind the mixture of laughter and groaning pain.

She tripped again on the long coat, tumbling just out of the forest. This time, she had tripped over something. She feared it was one of the of the gang members finally catching up to her. She sighed with relief when she instead found an odd looking staff.

Clara grasped the black, shiny object—the silver ball shining like a lighthouse. An over-powering feeling came over her. As if past, present, and future had met all at once in her tiny little hands.

She just barely fit in her coat when a hand covered her mouth. She screamed and thrashed against the hand. "Clara!"

"Daddy?" She murmured. Alex picked her up in his hands, a low growl in his voice.

"Have you seen this world for what it truly is now? Do you still desire the night?" Alex lectured as he carried her towards the house. Clara, despite being yelled at, held on to Alex for dear life. Thankful he had found her rather than those brutish boys. "Those boys could have eaten you alive! You should be thankful that not a hair on your dim little head was harmed!"

The speech went on the same. Her father told her time and time again that she wouldn't stand a chance. That everyone outside of their quaint little home wasn't to be trusted. He was calm by the time he put her back in her room. "We'll talk about this in the morning…Sleep this away for now, darling."

The door was closed, and Clara rushed to the window. In the distance, she saw a figure limping away from the woods. The boy she had met; possibly saved her from god knows what. All she had wanted was to see the night and instead had found her father was right about most things.

With the staff still wrapped in the coat, she threw it under her bed and changed into her pajamas. She then picked up her red with black-trim music box and made it play its song. It gave her hope that perhaps the world was not such a terrible place.

That, and the boy she had found tonight.