The Executioner of Horror Films

*On behalf of Mark*

Mark stood in the cellar, listening to the distant voices of his father-in-law and father-in-law. He felt that time was running out. He didn't care about Chris's anxiety - he knew he could cope with them. In his eyes, these people were insignificant, and he was not going to hesitate.

- We have to go! - Chris said with a trembling voice, but Mark just nodded and continued to listen carefully.

- Calm down, - he said, his voice was calm and confident. - They don't pose a real threat to us.

When the doors of the cellar began to open slightly, Mark took root on the spot, waiting for the enemies to enter. This house inspired fear, but not for him. After all, fear was a weakness, and he knew it, being well aware of his own strength.

The door opened, and Aunt Chris entered the cellar, brushing her teeth in a nasty smile. She looked happy, but only evil came from her face, which could not deprive her of the last chance for nobility.

- Do you think you can take it? - she whispered, her voice became like poison. - It belongs to us!

Mark looked at her with contempt, knowing that it was not worth fighting with her by the way around the way. She seemed to him just a convenient target.

"You don't know what you're dealing with," he said coldly, then stepped forward.

The moment she tried to throw herself at him, he clasped her neck without the slightest effort, squeezing his fingers. Her eyes opened when she realized what was happening. He felt her start to suffocate, her weakness was physically noticeable.

- You're pathetic," he said, looking into her eyes. - Your life is not worth the laminate you walk on.

Gathering all his strength, he squeezed sharply and broke her neck with a crack. She fell to the floor like an unnecessary doll. Mark only felt bored watching her lifeless body: he felt neither fear nor joy. It was just a necessary action.

Now there were more footsteps outside the door. Mark wanted to finish it. They were insignificant for him.

The next on his way were his father-in-law and sister. Their faces were distorted by anger when they began to enter the cellar.

- Where is she? - almost suffocating, the faw shouted. - We'll kill you for that!

Mark, taking his time, continued to look at them with mockery, as if he knew that they were doomed to failure. He felt his hatred blossom when they tried to be threatening. For him, they were small monkeys, meaningless.

- You have a chance to leave here alive, - he said with a smile. - But for this you will have to beg me on your knees.

And as soon as they took a step forward, he counterattacked. Mark's hand quickly rushed to his father-in-law, leaving the deepest hole in his neck. The father-in-law, before he even had time to open his mouth to scream, already felt his strength leave him, and with them his life.

Silence hung through the door of the cellar. Instead of a normal conversation about what happened to him, only a faint, broken silence remained in place.

My sister finally realized who she was dealing with. Fear ran across her face when she realized that everything might have come out of her control.

- You... you can't do it! - she screamed when she became fragile, as if the whole horror of this world had fallen on her.

Mark just grinned in response. She was as weak as her partner in front of her. He stepped towards her and, grabbing her face, made her look into the eyes of his death.

- The horror is that you had no idea how insignificant you were," he said, enjoying her horror.

The mind found purity when Mark felt her tremble in his hands. As soon as he squeezed her hair into a fist, she screamed, but that scream faded as soon as he pulled her to him, squeezing her to the limit.

Seconds later, she fell right next to her father-in-law, leaving behind another proof of inaction. Silence reigned again in the cellar, and all Mark did was look at their dead bodies, feeling neither pity nor compassion.

"Unhappy people," he said with contempt. Their weakness and futility were only worthy of contempt. It was not a place to live; they were just obstacles that had to be removed.

He looked around and wondered who else could stop him? Being in this house, he felt powerful, as if the whole existence was subject to his will. The cold light filled the room, and every breath raised his confidence.

Now that everything is behind, he could act further. It was necessary to find Chris and leave this place forever. But he could not fail to note that sometimes too much fear and too many unworthy lives triumph in this world.