That was the story of my first death. The ribbons that my mother and aunts insisted be added to everyone's clothes detached from my dress and sewed my head back onto my body. I still remember opening my eyes and having my fingers flutter to my neck, feeling the stitches that were keeping my head on my body. I felt like a monster.
My mother had to explain over and over again that I was not a monster, for a monster was as ugly on the inside as they were on the outside.
She told me that I was special, that the blood of the Romanian Gypsies flowed through my veins, and that I would never have to fear death again. But there was a catch, only one person in my family would have the Ribbon Girl's blood, and it flowed through me.
I had to watch my mother grow old and die. My cousins, their children, and our whole family got sick, grew old, and died.
From the Westward Expansion, to the depression of 1882 to 1885, to the Gilded Age. Time passed, the landscape changed, and people changed, but only I remained the same.
I decided that if I was going to be the only one to stay 18 forever, then I should have a goal in life… my goal was to take out as many monsters as I could before one managed to kill me permanently.
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2025
New York City
I forgot who said it, but I remembered the words clearly; "Pain is a good thing, it lets you know you are alive."
I sighed as those words echoed in my mind. I looked down at the pavement and then back at my shoulder. Where my left arm should have been, there was…nothing, and on the ground, not two feet in front of me laid my severed arm.
You would think I would be used to this by now, but I don't think you really get over the idea of losing an arm, or a leg, or a head. Right now though, my biggest concern was the absence of pain.
Was I still alive?
That was a question I had been asking myself for the past 215 years. I sat down crossed-legged on the blood-covered ground and contemplated my existence as I watch the fingers of my left arm start to creep closer to me, inch by inch. A small black ribbon weaseled its way out of my bulletproof vest, trying to get to my limb and reattach it in its proper spot.
Before I got good at this, not everything went back to its proper spot.
The suspect I was chasing got away, of course. Big surprise considering he shot me in the chest and hacked off one of my arms… the only joy in my life right now was going to be seeing his face when I chased him down again.
I always got my man… or my monster.
I felt the threads sewing my arm to my shoulder and look down at the mess. I'm not the best sewer, and when a little blood magic was involved, my sewing didn't tend to improve.
Luckily enough, it detached right where my sleeve tattoo was so the thread marks wouldn't be as noticeable. I shuddered, thinking of a time I was not as smart and had to answer questions as to why I had bright red ribbons stitched all over my body.
In my defense, I loved the color red and I was obsessed with the story of the "Woman with the Ribbon around Her Neck", so why wouldn't I have used that color?
Once everything was back in place and I fished my spare work uniform out of the trunk of my car and got changed, I made my way back to the precinct. After years of hard work, I finally got promoted to the Homicide Division as a detective.
Detective Nadezda Sokol was the name I am going by now. After 200 years and countless deaths later, you learned how to change everything to avoid detection. The Hunters were still out there, killing off anyone with pure Gypsy blood and I was not going to make their hunt any easier.
They had managed to kill me three times already, and their "inventive" ways of ending a life still made me shudder to this day. The worst one was when they shredded me to ribbons while I was still conscious. As I lay there, unable to move, even I thought I was going to die.
I guess not all monsters are noticeable from the outside.
Arriving at the detachment, I parked my car in one of the unmarked spots and got out. Using my work ID, I scanned my way into the building of the Third Street New York City Police detachment, or as I like to call it, home.
A few heads turned my way as I walked through the endless rows of patrol officers. Truth be told, I'm not that upset to no longer be sitting there with them.
"Sokol!!" a voice yelled, echoing throughout the room. I rolled my eyes, took a deep breath, and continued on my way to the homicide department where it seemed my boss was waiting for me.
"Are you going to explain this?!?" the voice continued to demand through a closed office door. Marveling at how clear the words were, I put on a smile and opened the door.
"Good morning, Boss! Isn't it a beautiful day?"
My boss looked at me from over the top of his gold-rimmed glasses. You could tell that the years in the office had not been good to him. His grey hair was offset by the light reflecting off his bald spot. I wanted to shield my eyes from the glare, but I didn't dare to do so.
I did that once and he had yet to forgive me for it.
"Are you going to explain what happened this morning? Last I heard you were chasing after The Butcher when your coms went silent. We thought you were dead! You should know never to turn off your coms when you are chasing after a suspect. It's not like he is called The Fluffy Bunny you know!"
Maybe I should explain. This was Staff Sergeant Mike Volasko, and he was, without a doubt, the nicest boss you could ever hope to meet in the police force. He was always on the side of his officers, and he would protect you like a momma bear protected her cubs. I was just fortunate enough to be one of his cubs.
"I'm seriously sorry, Sir," I said respectfully. "I had followed the suspect down an alley on the east side of the Bronx when he turned to take a shot at me. Either luck was on my side, or he had a really bad aim because he managed to hit my coms. I ducked right before he could fire again, and he took off while I was distracted." I showed Mama Bear the busted-up com unit but didn't say anything about the butcher's knife or the severed arm. He didn't need to know all the details.
"As long as you are alright, it is fine. Remember, your safety is the most important thing. We found him once and we can find him again, but there is only one of you. Take a quick break and then look for more clues. He needs to have a base of operations around here somewhere."
"Yes, Sir," I saluted and turned around to leave his office.
"Nads?" said Boss in a softer voice. "You sure you're ok?"
"As right as rain Boss, always and forever."