[ WP ] In the dead of night a young girl meets an intimidating man with severe scarring . After the confrontation the man is the one who is afraid .

It was dark. I liked dark, walking through the quiet made me feel dangerous. The air was crisp and cool, refreshing and pleasant. I let the air fan my coat out as I half swaggered through the alleys near my home, fists clenched, smiling happily to myself. To an unsuspecting passer by I looked like a normal little girl on the way home in the dark but I felt powerful, I breathed powerful. Sounds that swirled like mist ahead in the road caught my attention. A figure stood further along the path, a man, I judged by the size. I continued along my journey towards him boldly. There was a chance he was an innocent stranger standing in his back alley contemplating life with a cigarette and yet the closer I got to him the less sure of this I was. 
 
 As I neared him he turned his face and looked me up and down. His cigarette light illuminate his face that was a web of scars, cris crossing in a network of destruction and distorting one eye; some appearing ominously like fingernail marks. 
 `` Is n't it a bit late for a girl like you to be out on your own?'' He asked with a smirk, the lift of the corners of his mouth causing his scars to crease and stretch, `` There are dangerous people out here at night you know.'' He chuckled at his joke. 
 I laughed too, `` Dangerous folk?'' 
 He was eager to get closer, I could see it in everything that he was, his stance, the way he stared at me as if taking in every single detail. He took a subtle step forward and I felt my pulse quicken, I heard it rush past my ears, this was it - mothers and fathers warned their children to avoid the monsters in the dark of the outside world. The monsters that would destroy you if the time and setting was right. The stranger's body cast a large shadow over my own, blocking out more of the light, perhaps if it was n't so dark he would have noticed my smile. 
 He reached up to grab my throat, I took hold of one or two of his fingers, twisting them up and feeling them break with a satisfying crunch. The man screamed, profanities spilling from his mouth, wrenching his hand back and clutching it to his chest. 
 The scars rippled and stretched on his face. 
 
 I laughed sweetly, `` Dangerous folk indeed.'' The monster in the dark barrelled into his chest and laughed at his surprise as he fell. Blood covered my hands from a gash on the back of his head that I worsened by bouncing his skull against the road. Once I was done I stood up and inspected my work; the man was still conscious, was I loosing my touch? Perhaps his skull was just thick. He stared at me through eyes wide with terror, panting and whimpering pathetically. Incomprehension at what had happened left him stranded staring at me in what seemed almost like awe. He had n't expected a young girl to tackle him and it took all of my strength not to continue until his blood painted the street and I could taste it. 
 I laughed spitefully and left him there to clamour to his feet as I skipped gaily away humming tunelessly to myself. 
 He was right though, there were dangerous folk about.
