The Rose Reaper🥀

No one suspected Eleanor. She was quiet, polite, always smiling behind round glasses and floral blouses. She volunteered at the library, baked for neighborhood fundraisers, and watered her garden every morning. Roses. Always roses. But beneath the polite mask, Eleanor had a secret. A need. A hunger. It started with small things—dead mice arranged in perfect circles, petals tucked under their paws. Then came the whispers in her head. They told her the world was full of rot. People wore masks, just like her. And it was her job to peel them off. Eleanor never used weapons. She was more... graceful. A few drops of something bitter in a cup of tea. A perfectly tied knot in a walk-in freezer. A sudden push in just the right place. No mess. No noise. Just... gone.