No, Jason, I'm not gonna go Stockholm on you. I think Pero, as he often does, has cut to the heart of it and I hope it's of some help to you.
I was raised by an abusive parent (physical, verbal, emotional) who virtually handed me, ready-to-go, to my sexual abuser, a high school guidance counselor.
And, yeah, when there are no other choices I could fathom, my young mind just went along with it. Home was, well, home. It was familiar, even with the constant pain. I actually felt a kind of affection for the bitchmother. Again, however, I had no other frame of reference.