You stop moving. It will only speed the inevitable and damn if you’re going to make it easier for the Underworld to kill you. You’ll hang until your arms go slack with exhaustion. You’ll wait until . . .
Harpies. Yes, the Harpies might get you first. If not them, then the Hellhounds. Something terrible will find you here, and you’ll be done for. Violently. You’d rather let go, crash to the ground, and wake up, consequences be damned.
If you get inside the window, you might be able to escape what’s waiting for you. If you stay here, they’ll get you for sure.
What do you do?