a woman of no consequence

You said what you were going to do and now you have to do it. Because
that was what you said; you gave your word. You said here is the line.
You said cross that line and this is what happens. It's what you said,
you all but shook on it. Shook hands to seal the deal and shook in your
shoes in case the punishment were insufficient deterrent. There is no
punishment available that does not hurt you, too. Or I guess not
punishment but consequence, newspeak. And it's your line. If you weren't
willing to risk this result then you shouldn't have drawn the line.
Dragged your toe across the sand, finger through wet concrete, a knife
across your heart. Here's where can't be crossed. And it was crossed,
double crossed, crossed your heart, the cross you bear, cross-eyed and
painless. Only, it kind of hurts. You said what you were going to do and
now you have to do it. You don't have to want to do it, but you have to
do it. The idea is, the theory is, the plan is that this will hurt you,
but not as much as seeing the line crossed again will hurt. You can
say, this hurts me more than it hurts you. Though you like to hope that
isn't true. You're doing this because you don't want to be hurt. And
because you said you would. Can I wait a week? Sure. You can wait two
weeks. A month. You can spend years ignoring the fact that the line was
crossed, that the line is crossed again and again. But there was a
reason you drew it, and no matter how smudged it gets from being
crossed, you remember that it was there. And every time it is crossed
and you do nothing, it's you who is crossing it now. And that is part of
why you drew the line: to clarify to yourself later when you would need
to act. And now you need to act. You said what you were going to do and
now you have to do it.