As he hung above the chasm, silently
praying that his grip would last for just a little longer, Finch forced
his mind to focus on anything but the agonizing pain that was emanating
from his arm. Memories from his past rushed through his head, while faces
that he hadn’t seen in years briefly flashing in front of his eyes.
His gaze drifted across the underground chamber, and--as he watched Tipton
aim his gun--time seemed to stand still. Determination rushed through
him, and a single thought entered his mind as he prepared to lunge.
I don‘t like being closed in either.