28In His HeartThe scene in Soren Huxford’s temporary squat was not a good one. He lay on a bed covered with what looked like nothing more than a decorator’s dustsheet, flicking his switchblade open and closed, over and over. An Art Deco-style glass lampshade lay shattered at the bottom of the wall beside the bed where he’d thrown it upon his entrance a few hours earlier.
A large shard of the glass lay beside him. There were droplets of blood on the sharp edges almost indistinguishable from the red, yellow, and blue mottling of the pattern. Blood also smeared Soren's forearm. Still sticky in the center, it had dried around the edges, and nearly black flakes had shed onto the white sheet. There was no sign of the repetitive slashing from the early hours of the morning. The cuts had healed a
