There was a week where he wouldn't eat. It wasn't close to the time he faked his own death, but another time. He just stopped eating. Hoping that would change things. Make them have to come in. But they didn't. He'd pile up the food near the bed, so they'd have to come in, and then he'd be ready. But no one ever came. He thinks now that if he would've stuck with it, it would be different. The people would have had to come in, or he'd be dead. So either way, it didn't matter, maybe they would taser him.
There must of been a way they were watching him. This thought fueled another round of searching through the hotel room. Though he didn't really even know what he was looking for.
That was one of the first things he did with the blue paint if he was honest. He tried it on himself to block the camera, he laid down on the floor and painted his whole front blue. Then he tried to stop his breathing. Hold it in for as long as possible.
In the end he laid there too long, and his butt sort of fell asleep. He felt stupid washing off the blue paint in the shower.
There must of been a way they were watching him. This thought fueled another round of searching through the hotel room. Though he didn't really even know what he was looking for.
That was one of the first things he did with the blue paint if he was honest. He tried it on himself to block the camera, he laid down on the floor and painted his whole front blue. Then he tried to stop his breathing. Hold it in for as long as possible.
In the end he laid there too long, and his butt sort of fell asleep. He felt stupid washing off the blue paint in the shower.
