Chapter Thirty-Two
I’ve underappreciated music in
my life. I can see that now. As we ride the waves up through the edge and
travel further and further from the Abyss with every passing second, I can see
how powerful it is. Now, here, it saves us all from staying down there forever.
I wonder how many myths and
legends, stories and beliefs associated with hell have come from that place.
How many people live in fear of eternal damnation and don’t realise that there
is a very real place where we can become trapped if we don’t feel strong enough
to fight it?
Maybe that’s what depression is?
Maybe that’s what every bad feeling is? Somewhere, deep inside us there’s a
pole, like a magnet, and it drags us towards that place. The majority of us are
lucky that we’re strong enough to fight against its pull. I can see now how
important it is that we recognize when others are tempted by it, and how only a
few simple words can pull a person back from the brink.
I grip Yates’s hand tighter with
my left, and Upson’s with my right. I can’t see either of them in the murk, but
I’m glad that by holding tighter, their presence is confirmed to me. I think
that if I was here by myself, even with the song from the town, I might find it
hard to get back.
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