Resilience

An experimental intuition. I'd really like it to be bashed and broken, please say something.

Then he remembered Winston Smith hopeless luck, it was now his own. ‘There is nothing worse than physical pain. nothing.’ Afar from anything he ever knew, he swore to himself his body could not resist any residing thread of pain. The conviction of his certain death was invading his mind: in a few moments he would be dead. But, even though his flesh was burning from its first encounter with the dense air around him, even though that same air was evading his incontrollable screaming and panting, he knew the truth: there was still resilience in his body, he could be broken even further. The dark room had yet to witness the remaining portion of his torture. There was pain and humiliation to come and he would bear it. His body was far from extinct; life was still crawling up to him. He was certainly dying. But slowly.

Author's Note

Be blunt.