You drift out of unconsciouness with their invading penises way up inside you, and after lying there, exploring the anguish of your helplessness, you find out that you're not going back to sleep. The lesson is over, and yet there is still so much more to explore in there. It's not a proper morning until you hit the drugs so hard that you bust a blood vessel. That's your way of manifesting a response. It's not a human response at all, but it's what you can manage. Break the mind - break the body. We're not human. We can't be. We're something different - something abominable and wrong; something that survives through blasphemy, on broken bones. Something darkly innocent, created by evil. I'm fine. I'm fine.
When somebody stabs you in the back, you've got to learn to squeeze it lovingly - how to really suckle the entire length of that steel blade. It's part of you now, and adaptation to it will make you stronger. You'll transition into something inhuman, as you redefine the meaning of "okay".
Pain is a dimension of its own. Some people can live their whole life without knowing the depths of pain. They're missing out on so many flavours. Right now the pain is fresh and stingy, and comes in explosions that burns away your little sanity.