DAHAB GOLD — “The Table Test” Story No 2 How it could of gone down
This Video 5 seconds capitulates The Art Work story of being sawn up and put in a suitcase but the story or event was extremely serious . Video 2 is how it could of gone down.
DAHAB GOLD — “The Table Test” Story no 2
After the chain, the Tigger cup, and the break in tension, things didn’t calm down — they shifted. I was back at the table surrounded by the same energy that had been building for hours. A guitar in the corner. A suitcase sitting too close. Stacked rusty saws placed on the table, almost like props in a psychological play. Everything in the room felt staged to push me toward breaking.
They kept pushing apple pie and ice cream toward me, telling me to eat it even though I’d already eaten. It wasn’t about food — it was about control. About making me comply with something small so they could take something bigger. That was the pattern.
Gino started hammering at the guitar, singing my favourite song — November Rain — but not in a normal way. It was manic, off-tune, exaggerated. A performance designed to shake my headspace, to get me to sing, to get me to join in, to make me bend when I didn’t want to. It was psychological pressure disguised as banter.
The tools on the table — the saws, the rope, the suitcase — were symbolic but threatening in their own way. It was intimidation without ever needing to say the words. They were building a scenario in which I would feel trapped, pressured, cornered into defending myself.
But I didn’t fold.
I kept my composure.
I didn’t eat.
I didn’t sing.
I didn’t comply.
When they realised I wasn’t breaking, the atmosphere changed again. They offered me a “break.” A pause. A moment to step away — not out of kindness, but because their psychological game stops being fun when the target refuses to react.
That break?
That was the window I took.
And it led to the rooftop escape and everything that followed — the police, Churchill’s Hotel, the Red Sea threat, the military bug-out.
But this moment — the table, the saws, the guitar, the ice cream —
this was the pressure point before the escape.
This was Dahab Gold:
a psychological labyrinth, a mind game wrapped in chaos, and the moment I refused to be broken.

