Title: The Path Of Blood: Torn
Author: Luna "Tic" Vee
Feedback: Druidess@msn.com
Rating: This chapter is a hard PG-13
Pairing: Jay/Silent Bob
Series/Sequel: 2 of (most likely) 4
Warnings: Lots of blood here, murder, cursing God, suicidal
tendencies, Jay torture, GoneBob, homicidal Jay, and overuse of
ellipses
Spoilers: None
Archive: Sureness.
Disclaimer: I own diddly squat. Jay and Silent Bob are property of
Kevin Smith, View Askew, Miramax, and the Martians that live in
Scott Mosier's left ear.
Summary: Bob left Jay. Jay goes insane. Jay becomes homicidal. 
Bob goes over bedtime tradition, and wakes up to startling news.
Notes: Woohoo! Inspired by way too much Johnny The Homicidal
Maniac lately. Oh how I love the thought of homicidal Jay. Don't
worry, it'll have a happy ending... I hope.
***

"...Jay..." Bob sighed, looking at the broken picture on his night 
stand.

This had become a nightly ritual for Bob. Eat dinner, have a beer,
watch some tube, take a shower, hop into bed, and pine over Jay until
exhaustion takes hold and forces him down for the night. A horrid,
painful daily cycle that was the only thing Bob knew anymore.

It had been three years since he'd finally left. His life had been
miserable ever since, and he pined nightly, wishing it could all go
back to the way it was. Cursing himself for ever falling in love. 
Cursing himself for ever letting Jay find out. Damning himself for
walking away on his soul mate.

But it hurt too much. All the gay jokes, the ridicule, the painful
memories coming flooding back of all that Jay put him through,
intensifying after he'd found out. Then... Jay's sleeping, serene,
smiling face as he napped on the couch. Bob's bags packed, he set
the carefully-worded note upon the cushion next to the blonde beauty.

Bob's heart sunk like a rock, and he felt sick to his stomach. Yep,
there's a familiar feeling. He felt it every time he replayed the
moments in his head. The dare, the kiss, the scream, the cursing, the
yelling, the tears freely streaming from his own eyes, the rejection, 
the
loneliness, the pain, the betrayal, and then...the beauty, his soul
mate, the one he would do anything for, asleep, lovely... And leaving
that note, his own silent method of betrayal. Walking away, and into
the night. Pain consuming his soul. His heart shattering like a 
cheap
wine flute.

Bob had thought of going back. Giving up with this useless crusade
and going back. Going back to the hurt and rejection, because he
can't function alone. But no, he had to live his own life. Besides, 
if
Jay had wanted him back, he would have found a way to contact him. 
He would've stopped him...

Three years...

Bob rolled over, curling his arms around the small, pink, stuffed
bunny Jay had bought him for Easter one year. Sure, the bunny was
tiny in his big strong arms, but it was his only shred of memory left 
of
his beloved.

Morning started out as usual. Get up, brush teeth, brush hair,
meander out to the kitchen to get a bowl of cereal, eat the bowl of
cereal on his new, uncomfortable, alien couch, in front of his alien 
TV. 
Preferably the news.

"Once again, police have no evidence as to the actual identity of the
killer, but it's safe to say they may be the same Junkie Slayer who's
been on the loose for two years to this day..." Bob cringed at the 
sight
of crime scene photos taken by police. A grizzly murder, to be sure. 
Blood in a pool around the guy, his internal organs taken out and
displayed for all to see. Eyes gouged out, scrotum cut in half, and 
the
penis hacked off and lain beside him, covered in scarlet.

"What kind of psycho would..." Bob began to no one in particular.

"The only eye-witness, Miss Heidi Apgar, identified the killer she saw
as a young, extremely pale, sickly thin young man, in about his late
twenties. Brown eyes, deep blue hair left long in the back, shaved on
the sides, and spiked semi-short up top..." continued the newscast, as
an artist's rendering was displayed onscreen.

"Hey, that looks kinda like..." Bob began to himself, shocked at the
resemblance in facial structure and eyes.

*Who're you kidding? Every boy looks like him to you...* a little 
voice
at the back of his brain said.

Bob tried to ignore the voice, his tiny little voice of reason, and
studied the screen carefully, looking as if he were staring at a 
ghost. 
"He looks JUST like him," Bob concluded, startled, shocked, and
confused all at once. "Could it be? Or is it just a coincidence?"

The TV droned on as Bob contemplated the situation. What if he
were right? What if the killer was Jay? What the hell? What if he
were just going insane and his voice of reason was right? What was
he going to have for dinner that night? Why the HELL did that
matter?

***