下雨天，我和两个朋友推门走进一家灯光昏黄、金碧辉煌的娱乐厅。里面人声鼎沸，桌子一张挨一张，像一场永远散不了的派对。
我上楼转了一圈回来，朋友B凑过来跟我说：刚才有个女生打电话到前台，问她男朋友是不是在这里跟别人开房。前台矢口否认，但那姑娘不知怎么还是找来了，甚至拍到了我们在大厅里的照片。我听了觉得好笑，这种地方，居然还有房间？
好奇心起来了，我们决定探索一下。
七拐八拐，我们发现了一道暗门。门后是一条幽长的走廊，越走越暗。走到尽头，眼前忽然打开，一个正方形的中空结构，四层楼高，每一层都密密麻麻排满了房间，像蜂巢一样规整。
然后我们看见了不该看见的东西。
很多房间的门敞开着。里面有女生躺在床上，低声啜泣。她们的腿被打断了，根本无法下床。我们僵在原地，终于明白过来，那个男生从来不是在这里偷情。他在做一件远比背叛残忍的事。
我们转身就跑。A最先冲了出去，但B突然停下来，折返回大厅，冲到一张桌前，对着一个沉默的男人吼：怎么会有这种事？男人一言不发地看着她。我死死拽住B的胳膊，压低声音说，别说了，求你了，先走。如果他们知道我们看到了，我们也跑不掉。
往外跑的时候，一个念头像闪电一样击中我：A已经先走了，他们会不会已经把她截住了？
我拉着B狂奔回家。
到了家门口，我颤着手掏出一大串钥匙，一把一把试过去。没有一把能打开。我的手在发抖。这时B从口袋里摸出她的钥匙，咔嗒一声，门开了。
A坐在屋里。平安无事。我松了一口气。
A看着我说：你的钥匙丢了，你知道吗？
我说：你怎么知道？
她说：有人告诉我的。
我说：谁？
她说：就是那个男人。
心脏像坠入冰水。那么多钥匙里，偏偏丢的是我家的那把。他拿着我的钥匙。他知道我住在哪里。
半夜，他会不会来？
冷汗浸透后背。然后我醒了。
It was raining. My two friends and I pushed open the door of a dimly lit, lavishly decorated entertainment hall. Inside, the place was buzzing — tables crammed together, one after another, like a party that would never end.
I went upstairs to look around and came back down. Friend B leaned in and told me: a girl had just called the front desk asking if her boyfriend was here with someone else, renting a room. The receptionist flatly denied it, but somehow the girl still tracked the place down and even took a photo of us in the main hall. I laughed when I heard this. A place like this, and they have rooms?
Curiosity got the better of us. We decided to explore.
After winding through one corridor after another, we found a hidden door. Behind it, a long hallway stretched into deepening darkness. At the end, the space suddenly opened up — a hollow square structure, four storeys tall, with rooms packed tightly along every level like a honeycomb.
Then we saw what we were never meant to see.
Many of the doors were wide open. Inside, girls lay on beds, sobbing quietly. Their legs had been broken. They couldn’t leave. We froze in place, and it finally clicked — that boyfriend was never sneaking around for an affair. He was doing something far more cruel than betrayal.
We turned and ran. A bolted out first, but B suddenly stopped, turned back toward the main hall, rushed up to a table, and screamed at a silent man sitting there: How can something like this exist? The man stared back at her without a word. I grabbed B’s arm and hissed: Stop talking, please, let’s go. If they find out we saw this, we won’t make it out either.
As we sprinted for the exit, a thought struck me like lightning: A had left ahead of us — could they have already caught her?
I dragged B all the way home.
At the front door, my hands were shaking as I fumbled through a thick ring of keys, trying them one by one. None of them worked. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling. Then B reached into her pocket, pulled out her key, and — click — the door opened.
A was sitting inside. Safe.
I exhaled.
A looked at me and said: You lost your key, you know that?
I said: How do you know?
She said: Someone told me.
I said: Who?
She said: The man.
My heart plunged into ice water. Out of all those keys, the one missing was mine. He has my key. He knows where I live.
In the middle of the night — will he come?
Cold sweat soaked through my back. Then I woke up.