Large hands on my shoulders pull me back. I slam backwards onto the concrete and the shards of broken glass, like a lifeless sack of potatoes.

Above me, three menacing shadows loom, ready to seal my fate in this dark and dirty piss-smelling alley.

The leader leans in towards me, a wickedly crooked smile revealing underneath that lowered baseball cap. "You should have let me walk you home, mate," he snorts, amused by the prospect of kicking the living shit out of me.

"Sorry, you're not my type." I grunt.

The smile is gone, and a snarl has arrived in its place "Brave now? I dare you to say that again".

"Sorry... toothless dirty tramps aren't my type".

His wild fists reign down on my face with such fury, driven by the suggestion of his sexuality and for the fear of showing any weakness in front of his fellow street twats. My hands try desperately to protect my face, but are to no avail against his attack.

Exhausted, he steps back, and reaches into his waistband, bringing out the knife. He has no intention of letting me leave this alley alive.

The other two grab hold of me to pin me down. I scream out in agony, as all of their weight is holding me in place, and I'm pushed further into the broken shards of glass that slice into my back like a knife in warm butter.

He lifts his cap so I can see his beady little rat eyes are fixed intently on me, while his deranged mind works out how he's going to kill me. He wants me to suffer, but he wants it done quick- the longer he's here, the more chance he has of being caught. The two above me are getting restless as they mutter to their leader, "do it, get it done," and "we've got go". They may blindly follow him down dark alleys to his bidding, but they have no intentions of getting nicked because of him.

I look away from his gaze and up high at the black sky, with hints of red blended into the dark looming clouds that slowly move pass the moon. The stars are not so bright, but nevertheless are there. I wonder if this will be the last thing I ever see.

Coldness shivers through my body as it shuts down, no longer able to cope with the pain that overwhelms my senses.

His arm raises up, ready to bring down his fatal blow, I inhale my final breath, ready for what comes next, but before he can bring the knife down on me he's flung back. When he reals forward, lunging himself at my feet, I notice he's thrashing around, trying to get something off his back.

She has her nails deep into his face, tearing at the skin on his cheeks. His eyes bulge with utter horror and disbelief. Scrambling, to his feet she still clings on as he desperately tries to knock her off, her tiny little hands release his bloodied face only to bury their way deep into his mouth, then with an all mighty crack she rips his jaw clean of his face. It hangs limply, swinging like a ventriloquist's dummy.

His body falls to the ground like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

Liten vampyr stands above him, unflinching, her face covered in her swaying black hair. Im not too proud to admit how happy I am to see her. A salty tear rolls down my face, stinging the cuts as they roll into the blood to unite. I thought I'd never see her again-after all she was only ever here for dad.

Weight is suddenly lifted of me and I can breath as the two previously brave henchmen now recoil in horror, too frightened to even scream or run away.

As if they had suddenly got her attention, her head jerks up, her eyes widen, Liten Vampyr movements are as fluid as water flowing down a stream.

She climbs up the fence, runs across the top, then lunges herself effortlessly on top of the two of them.

They are twice the size of Liten Vampyr, but with not even half the anger and animalistic rage.

They are torn to pieces and devoured, in the stillness of the night. I hear their bones break, their desperate begging and pleading that fall on her death ears, then the low gurgles and splutters as she drinks them dry, until they are nothing more than gross bags of skin.

Our Liten Vampyr, our little monster.