Pewdiepie Bridge Incident

On my third day driving for a ride-hailing app, I picked up a female passenger who was completely wasted. Early the next morning, the police knocked on my door. At the station, the woman pointed straight at my face and screamed, "It was this driver! He raped me while I was drunk in the car. I’m still bleeding down there!" Her boyfriend lunged at me, trying to punch me, but the officers restrained him. People at the station started pulling out their phones to record, shouting insults like "scumbag" and "pervert" at me. An officer who wore a gloomy face asked, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?" I calmly took off my baseball cap. I even thought about unbinding my chest. "Officer, there’s something I’m really curious about. I’m a woman. With what, exactly, would I have made her bleed?"

At one in the morning, the neighbor upstairs suddenly knocked on my door. He said there was a leak in his apartment and asked if our place had been affected. I was just about to open the door when my vision was flooded with comments. [Open the door, and you're dead! That man outside is not your neighbor!] [Didn't the old man upstairs who lived alone go to Marcasia last week to find his new love interest? There shouldn't be anyone up there at all!] I immediately pulled away from the doorknob. At that moment, an emergency notice popped up in the residential property chat. [Unit 1307 has a burst pipe with severe leakage. Property management will inspect the building's water system.] [Is anyone home in 1207? We need to check whether your ceiling is leaking. Please open the door.] Unit 1207 was my place. The comments flooded my vision again. [What kind of property management does inspections at one in the morning? They're in on it together!] [Bea, stay hidden! Your destined man will descend from the heavens to save you!] I nodded solemnly, as if I was taking them very seriously. I turned around and grabbed my climbing rope. Amid the hysterical screaming of the comments, I leapt straight off the balcony. I'm someone who got a second life. Last time around, my entire life was ruined by listening to these brain-dead comments. This time, I'd rather die from the fall than end up as a breeding machine again.

"Dude, let me see whose is bigger. Yours or my boyfriend's." On a truck along the Sicherian-Timbre Highway, a couple hitched a ride from me. The lady, Jean Shelley, was dressed provocatively. I couldn't help getting aroused, pitching a tent. Unexpectedly, Jean was very open-minded. She actually wanted to use her hand to measure how big I was. What made my blood race even more was that her boyfriend, Ray Brook, wanted her to use her body to pay for the ride.

While I was driving my bus, I spotted my boyfriend's car ahead. He was kissing the woman he had always been hung up on. I could not help tapping the horn. That was all it took. He and his dream girl stepped out and blocked my bus in the middle of the road. I glanced at the passengers behind me. I could not afford to delay everyone, so I swallowed my pride and asked him to move his car. She lifted her chin, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Not happening. Unless you get off that bus and apologize to me right here, you're not going anywhere.” Traffic was completely jammed. There was no way forward and no way back. My face went pale, but I had no choice except to lower my head and prepare to apologize. My boyfriend grew impatient. "Why are you still standing there? Get down and apologize to Sally. Right now." Humiliated, I inched my way towards the door. However, the doors unexpectedly swung open and the passengers rushed out of the bus. “Do you think we have time for this? I'm already late for school. Are you going to take responsibility?” “My perfect attendance this month is ruined because of you. You two are unbelievable!” “If you shameless idiots want to act like this, don't blame us for getting physical!”

At 11:00 pm, I've just locked my car and am about to walk away when rows of bright red comments appear right in front of my eyes. "Warning! Your husband, whom you're still in a 30-day cooling-off period with, wants to kidnap you! He'll take nudes of you while livestreaming the entire process before mutilating you into chunks and flushing you down the sewers!" "Well, this gold digger keeps swindling money from her husband while toying with his feelings relentlessly. Now, she even wants a portion of his assets by getting a divorce from him. Serves her right for being a target of revenge!" I'm left feeling shell-shocked. After all, I'm single as a Pringle. How the heck did I even have a husband, to begin with?

On the day the male influencer patient was discharged, he posted a tearful video accusing my chaste, principled doctor wife of sexually assaulting him. In the clip, he cowered in a corner of the hospital, trembling, his clothes disheveled. With a terrified cry of "Dr. Shelby," he abruptly cut the footage. Overnight, my wife became a monster in a white coat—public enemy number one across the internet. We begged him, again and again, to come forward and clarify the truth. Instead, he posted an injury assessment report and wept about being bullied by his doctor. My wife had no way to defend herself. She was suspended pending investigation—and in the end, she leapt from the thirtieth floor. I endured humiliation and waited for the truth to surface. When it finally did, I obtained a reexamination report that proved her innocence. But by then, no one cared about the truth anymore. And I, consumed by despair, died of cancer. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day that patient was first admitted. This time, I begged my wife to take leave—I wanted to take her away from this doomed fate. But my gentle wife wrapped her arms around me, her eyes red, and said, "Don't be afraid, honey. This time… I won't run away."