Standing trail for your sins

Prompt: Very vaguely on the following extract of Sonnet 97 by Shakespeare.
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
The entire story itself was originally inspired by the line “I like the skin stretched over your bones” from The Boy Who Blocked His Own Shot, by Brand New
Characters: Iris, Dorian, Alexandra [implied] (Limbo)
Timeline: Near the end of the story, before Alex finds out about Dorian's "eloborate scheme" if you will
Word count: 1,148
Author’s comments: I felt like dabbling with the closest thing to immortal characters I’ve come up with. I do love my immortals. I started this story for my Children’s Writing class last semester, so it’s meant to be teen fiction, roughly 24 chapters or so. This is part of the final turning point, but from Dorian's POV (the actual piece is done in Alex's voice) ...Please ignore all the godforsaken bloody adverbs. They have a way of sneaking up on me.

***

The air feels thick as it enters my lungs, grainy and suffocating like dust. It presses in around me. I can feel it in every single pore as I wrench myself back into wakefulness. My chest constricts with a gasp I didn’t realise I had in me, and my ribs ache with the memory of forgotten bruises. My eyes fly open and find nothing but darkness. I have to blink a few times before I am able to identify shapes, before I remember I'm in a bedroom. The panic fades a lot quicker than the bitter metallic taste in my mouth, or the smell of sulphur and decaying flesh. This is why I never slept anymore.
There’s a subtle shift next to me and I suddenly become very aware of a warm form curled against my back. The past twenty four hours come rushing back with all the subtlety of a runaway freight train. A sound somewhere between an exhalation and a strangled sob wrenches itself from my body as I try to fight the guilt that threatens to overtake me. Consume me. Drown me. I know I shouldn’t fight it. I deserved it for what I nearly lost that day.
“Oh please, spare me the melodrama.”
I sit up quickly; resisting the urge to launch myself at the figure perched on the window ledge. Iris merely looks down at me with a self satisfied smirk on her face.
“What do you want?” I hiss, aware that my eyes have narrowed dangerously and my body has shifted to shield the figure still sleeping behind me.
Iris flips her silver blonde hair over her shoulder and it catches momentarily in a breeze that isn’t actually there. It’s all meant to be very intoxicating, mesmerizing, utterly irresistible, whatever…even the most glamorous of tricks lose there shine when you’ve been dealing with them for over ninety years.
“You know, what you did yesterday was rather brave, if incredibly stupid. Isn’t that what got you killed in the first place?”
I flinch despite myself and the melodic laugh that follows makes my hair stand on end. Gracefully, she moves to sit on the edge of the bed, trailing a finger along my cheek. I can practically hear my heart rate slowing. I know I can’t move, but that doesn’t stop me from trying. She leans forward to whisper in my ear, overwhelming my senses with the unique scent of strawberries and flowers.
“You can’t win, Dorian.”
“I already have,” I reply, secure in the feeling of warmth next to me. I feel her smile, a slight flex in her cheek as it brushes mine.
“She’ll be dead before long,” she says as she pulls back, “I win.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“I’d dare, you know full well I would. But this has nothing to do with me, this is life. Not that it's something you’ve really ever understood, is it? Oh it’ll seem like a snap of the fingers to you, but her years will be spent. Ultimately, I always win. Nature plays right into my hands.”
“No, I can…”
“What? Give her an option?” she demands roughly, a shadow falling across her features, “Don’t waste my time Dorian. I can’t abide with stupidity.”
I become aware that I’m grinding my teeth. It is with some effort that I manage to unclench my muscles enough to reply. “I will think of something.”
“You took your place in this a long time ago, there are no options at your disposal.”
“There are always options,” I shoot back, glaring at her.
“Not with you,” she murmurs, brushing the back of her hand across my cheek, “No, definitely not. I should have known really, that this would happen with you. Always running, never facing the consequences of anything you start –”
“Stop it,” I interrupt quietly, but she doesn’t pay attention. Blood starts rushing in my ears. I try my best not to listen to her, not to give her what she wants.
“– always going in with guns blazing, dragging others down with you, while you merely skip out in the end. Everyone you touch only has one option, to suffer, for you –”
Anger burns through my entire being. Iris knows exactly what buttons to push, I know this, but it still doesn’t stop the guilt from washing over me with the underlying truth of her words. It stings while the fact that she can get to me, well, that just infuriates.
“Stop it!” I exclaim, drawing it in. The emotions give me enough willpower to break her hold, and I jump up forcing her to follow. I tower over her as she stands with her back against the window. My fists are clenched and I have to remind myself where I am before we start one of our battles. I know I’m shaking with the strain of holding it all in, all that fury and frustration I want to hurl at her ridiculously deceptive face in the form of heat and thunder.
Still she stands there, staring benevolently back at me. I see her laughter course through her body more than I actually hear it. The effect is still the same though and as I break out in goose bumps I can feel the power I held dissipating.
“You forget your place boy,” she says quietly, a soft smile still playing on her lips. I can do nothing but exhale heavily as she steps closer to me, standing on tip toes to kiss my temple.
“Besides,” she begins as she pulls back, smoothing down my shirt, “What makes you think she’ll want anything to do with you, once she’s found out what you’ve done?”
My mouth opens and closes on its own violation as it tries to come up with something to say and my heart lurches painfully when I realise I’ve got no reply. The hollow feeling of dread and horror I’ve felt over the past two days return with enough force to knock me out, and I suddenly feel excruciatingly tired.
Somewhere behind her mask of sadomasochism, Iris almost looks vaguely sympathetic. “That’s why we don’t play with the living Dorian, consider this fair warning.”
She takes my hand in hers and as much as I try to withdraw, my muscles refuse to respond. She smiles encouragingly, as if she enjoys my feeble struggles against her control.
“Good night, sweet prince,” she says quietly. With a sigh she flips over the traitorous appendage, and presses her lips to my wrist.
The last thing I see is purple. I can hear the crash of waves against a cliff face long before I actually orientate my senses again. Not that I need them. I know exactly where I am. I shudder as the wind howls around me, and I only open my eyes when the first raindrop falls. I sigh heavily as I glance around the barren cliff top. It never changes. Staring into the stormy ocean below, I sit and wait for morning.

Music: Rain, thunder, a whimpering dog, and Torchwood
Mood: Aggravated to infinity plus one