The Confession of a Beauty Blogger

My name's Yvette Lawrence, and I'm a beauty blogger nobody really knows. Usually, my videos barely get over ten thousand likes. That night, I looked into the camera and hit record. I'd thought about the video title forever, and finally went with "A Toast to Myself." In the camera shot, I'm holding a glass of red wine, my face unsettlingly calm. I stare into the camera and say, word by word, "I killed someone." The live stream room instantly falls silent, the bullet comments freezing for a few seconds. Then, a flood of question marks and accusations pours in. I ignore the comments and keep going. I say it happened on my eighteenth birthday. That day, I drank and then got behind the wheel. On a quiet, deserted road, I hit and killed a girl. After saying that, I pause for a moment and take a sip of red wine. Me on camera, my eyes empty, like I'm reliving some terrifying memory. I also said that my father used his influence to cover this up. For all these years, I've been living with this guilt. Now, I don't want to keep hiding it. After finishing the video, I didn't hesitate—I just hit "post" immediately. I knew exactly how much chaos this video would cause. But I had no other choice. Sure enough, before long, the video's views started shooting up. From a few thousand to tens of thousands, then hundreds of thousands, and eventually it blew past a million. The comments section absolutely exploded. Some people say I'd do anything just to get views. "Bloggers these days will make up any lie just to get famous." "An eighteen-year-old drunk driver causing a crash and it gets covered up? At least put some effort into your story." "This has to be scripted. Can't wait to see how they spin it next." Most of the comments say stuff like this. A few people are half convinced, thinking my expression doesn't seem fake. "Her hands kept shaking while she spoke—it doesn't look like she's acting." "If this is true, it's terrifying. People with power think they can just do whatever they want?" Some even started digging into my past, trying to find any clues that I'm a killer. My inbox got flooded in no time. Some were cursing me, some doubted me, and others were eagerly asking for details. I turned off my phone, leaned back on the sofa, and closed my eyes. The first step kind of worked. But this was just the beginning.