Page 160 of Inbetweeners
“Why am I wet?” Phoenix asked.
“I rinsed you off with the shower. I didn’t think you’d want to find yourself lying in a pool of blood. Did Vin come?”
“He was at the edge. Not fully in my mind but yelling at me, promising me stuff, promising me you.”
“Do you want to have a break?”
Phoenix shook his head. “No. The sooner he’s gone, the better.”
Emmett handed him the knife again. “Any more last words?”
“How the fuck can you still make me laugh? I hurt and I’m still laughing. Go and get that book. I want you to read it and tell me how it ends.”
Emmett fetched it from the bedroom.
“Mamma mia, here I go again,” Phoenix half-sang, his eyes sad.
“My, my, how can I resist you?” Emmett stared straight at him, tears filling his eyes.
Phoenix smiled as he drove the knife into his heart, though it didn’t take long for the smile to slip.
Emmett made sure his tears didn’t fall until Phoenix couldn’t see him, then he let go and sobbed. This was beyond awful.
It took Phoenix longer to come back each time, and he grew more and more exhausted, pain etched in his tired features. Emmett found himself anxiously waiting for the right word to come out of Phoenix’s mouth and on the sixth and seventh times, it was a moment before Phoenix could say anything.
“He’s so angry,” Phoenix panted. “He’s screaming at me, telling me what he’s going to do me if I don’t stop. And I’m so tired.”
Emmett leaned over and kissed him. “You want me to help?”
“I don’t want you to have to. As long as I can, I want to do this myself.”
When Phoenix nodded, Emmett handed him the knife. Phoenix wrapped both hands around the hilt, pressed it against his chest and pushed, but Emmett could see he’d not pushed as hard as he had previously.
“Fuck off, Vin!” Phoenix gasped. He shot Emmett a pleading look, and Emmett pressed the knife home as he stared into Phoenix’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Emmett whispered.
As Phoenix died, Emmett dropped back to sit next to the bath, his heart juddering. Once more and it would be done.
It took four hours for Phoenix to come back the final time. Emmett had long finished the book. He was ready to go too now. But this time when Phoenix opened his eyes, Emmett knew it wasn’t him. He’d so wanted to have these last few moments and it wasn’t going to happen. Emmett hesitated, hoping for Phoenix to say Maltesers or Bounty or even Twix, but instead, Phoenix said, “Emmett” and started to get to his feet. Emmett sloshed the remaining holy water over him and slammed the knife into his chest, pushing as hard as he could, and it felt as if he were driving the knife into his own heart because Phoenix was fighting, yelling at him and calling him names. It was a struggle for Emmett to keep him down.
Finally, the noises stopped. Phoenix looked straight at Emmett and it was him again, not Vin, then he died. Something in Emmett died too but he couldn’t hesitate now. He climbed into the bath and knelt between Phoenix’s legs. Holding the knife upright on Phoenix’s chest, Emmett pressed himself down onto it, so that when he collapsed, he’d be as close to Phoenix as he could get.
Even through the intense pain, Emmett managed to kiss him as he died for the final time.
Emmett opened his eyes to find himself back in his pod in Heaven.Phoenix!He gasped as he realised he’d remembered. A tiny part of him had hoped he’d wake with Phoenix by his side, but that hadn’t happened. Emmett let out an audible groan. He’d have the happyperfect peoplealong any moment to cheer him up if he wasn’t careful. He pushed to his feet, registering he was already dressed and back in his ordinary clothes—his grey chinos, his pink shirt. He pulled up his shirt to look at his stomach but Phoenix's name wasn't written there.I still remembered.
When he stepped in front of the mirror, he gasped. He still had pink hair.Emmett allowed himself a brief smile, but he had something important to do.
Finding Zedekial proved tricky, but Emmett eventually tracked the archangel down in a park, where he was playing with two golden retrievers. Emmett took a deep breath and walked up to him.
“Excuse me,” Emmett said. “I’m sorry to interrupt your private time. You don’t know me but—”
“Emmett Briscoe. You made a very nice mosaic table.”
“Ah. Right. Yes. Thank you. I want to ask your advice. Who would I need to speak to about a mistake that’s been made over someone sent to Hell?”
“Mistakes aren’t made.”
