A chamber of promises, steel filled with lies.

I wander, around a system of tunnels. Dark. Only a flame to guide me. Once filled with water, these tunnels are now bare. Now the tunnel simply filled with fish all dead. Cause of death obvious. Scriptures scrolled across the walls, written in scratches and blood. Perhaps made by the previous inhabitants of the maze. Strangely enough, I seem able to navigate this system freely, no sense of hesitation or wonder. Just one fixed course, no matter how I try to stray from it I'm still walking in some pre-programmed fashion. I see doors, passages in many direction, spouting from the corridor I am walking. Curiosity calls me to pursue them, to test what's behind closed doors. However, my curiosity is not enough to stray me from the path I am following. I seem not to be wearing shoes, how foolish. My feet now cut and bruised from the floor and my footsteps leave bloody prints behind, much like those in front.

A man appears behind me. Wearing a mask, unable to see his face. He walks slowly towards me, his build similar to mine. In his hand, a blade. So I ask what is the logical solution to this conundrum, fight the man with the blade, or run. Honestly what would you do? I run, fleeing, sprinting now. The stone even rougher than before, again I seem unable to turn into any corridor, my brain drives me and I trust it with all my heart. I keep running now, absentmindedly. I finally reach the end of the corridor, a circular room. A single chair in the center. The man is now stood behind me, the entrance I came in has vanished. I am now in the chair, strapped in, unable to move. Not sure how I got here. What seems like days, maybe weeks, months or years of torture ensue. Unimaginable pain. Horrific injuries. I should be dead. I wish I was. But I seem fine, my body still full of energy, yet painful and scarred beyond comprehension.
I suddenly hold a revolver. Six barrels. Six bullets. I fire one into the assailants head, brains splatter behind him. I have one. Finally I am happy. He stands up, unharmed. Four more attempts of this. All to no avail. So I place the gun in my mouth, point it up towards my brain and place my shaking finger on the trigger. Now I ask you this. Would you be strong enough to pull the trigger in my position. I know I'm not.