Disclaimer: If you've seen them on the show, they aren't mine. They belong to Dick Wolf. I'm just borrowing them.

Warning for violent sexual content in this chapter. Definitely rated M. Reader discretion is advised.

Review for the next chapter!

When Alex and Michael get home, she showers again, the warm water cascading over her battered skin. She tries to think of how she's going to pass the next month. She is Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot. That's what she is – that's who she is. If she doesn't have that title, she's nothing. Just another victim of another violent man, and that's how she sees herself. Being an ADA allows her a cool, collected persona, a position in which she is in complete control, and it makes her feel stronger. If, even for one month, she's no longer an attorney, she won't even know who Alex Cabot is.

She lies in bed that night with Michael's arms wrapped tightly around her. It should feel comforting, but instead, it feels suffocating. She feels like she's drowning in a pool two feet deep, watching as others step back and ask what's wrong with this picture.

The next morning, Alex wakes before Michael. She doesn't dare get out of bed, so instead she turns onto her side and watches him in fascination. He looks so peaceful while asleep. It's hard to imagine that this tranquil man is the monster that Alex sees daily. But she knows it's true.

Michael groans in his sleep and Alex shrinks away from her boyfriend. He rolls onto his side and opens one eye. "'Morning, babe."

"Hi," she whispers, a searing pain assaulting her body as it hits her; she's not going to work today. She's not going to work for twenty-nine more days. She's staying here, at Michael's mercy, and she's going to do whatever he wants her to do. She cringes at the thought.

"You know what I want right now?"

Suppressing the urge to shy away, she bites. "What?"

He licks his lips. "You."

By the time he's finished with her, her body is sore and all she wants to do is shower until she feels clean again, washing away the dirtiness that's enveloping her body. He likes it rough and forces her to play with him, even though she hates the pain and the humiliation she feels every time. Her back is covered in deep red welts, as are her thighs, all the way down to the backs of her knees. Layers of new bruises have formed over the old ones.

Michael climbs back onto the bed, seemingly unperturbed by the pain his girlfriend is in. He pats the space next to him and flips on the television, mindlessly flipping the channels.

Alex lowers herself onto the bed next to him, wincing as her tender skin comes into contact with the comforter. She turns onto her side so as not to disturb the worst of her injuries. When Michael absently pulls her toward him and starts to stroke her hair, she flinches and has to force herself not to recoil from him.

There's nothing on television, so Michael abandons the remote. Alex seems to be much more interesting to him. He lifts her up as if she's nothing but a doll and lays her over his lap, which is sexually gratifying for him but merely fear inducing for her. She's afraid he's going to hit her some more, but he doesn't. Instead, he traces his fingers over the marks on her back, lightly running his hands over the skin he's inflamed. She squirms at his touch and bites her bottom lip to keep from crying out. It hurts so much . . . But, she reminds herself, she's Assistant District Attorney Alex Cabot. She's brave and strong, the ice queen. Unflappable.

The doorbell rings just then and Michael growls. He pushes Alex off his lap. "Stay here," he orders, glaring at her as he rises to answer the door.

"Hi, Michael," says a sweet voice that takes Alex's breath away. She's missed that voice so much, but – what's Olivia doing here? Shouldn't she be working right now? Is something wrong? "Is Alex here?" continues Olivia.

"Actually, she isn't," lies Michael. "Isn't she at work?"

Alex can hear the confusion in the detective's voice as she says, "She didn't tell you?"

Michael plays dumb so well. She almost hopes Olivia, with her killer instincts, won't buy it, but then she discards the thought immediately. No one must know what goes on behind her closed doors. She would be so humiliated if Olivia could see her now, dark welts and bruises covering her frail body, no longer the imperturbable, fearless, tough ADA she tries to portray herself as. "Tell me what?" asks Michael.

Olivia, thank God, has the good sense not to engage in such a conversation. "I think you should ask her."

Alex lets out a deep breath. Thank you, Olivia, she says silently.

Although she can't see him, she knows Michael is shrugging his shoulders. "I'll tell Alex to give you a call, okay?"

She can hear Olivia's hesitance in her voice. "Alex isn't here?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," snaps Michael. "I think I know where my own girlfriend is!"

"Great," says Olivia calmly. "Then you can tell me."

He's caught in his own trap and they all know it. Alex holds her breath, shivering as she wraps her bathrobe tightly around herself. She hopes he isn't going to hit Olivia. She won't be able to take it. That will only incense Michael and he will take it out on her the minute they're behind closed doors again. She cringes and braces herself for the sound of the anticipated smack.

But it doesn't come. Instead, he shouts, "Get out!" and slams the door in Olivia's face.

Alex closes her eyes and leans back against the headboard of her bed, wincing as her battered skin comes into contact with the wood. Now Olivia's suspicions are definitely aroused and Michael's going to be furious. And when he's furious, he takes it out on her.

Sure enough, he barrels into the bedroom a moment later. She cringes at the expression on his face as he grabs her shoulders and shakes her hard. "What did you tell her?"

"N-nothing!" chokes out Alex. "I'm sorry! I didn't say anything!"

Abruptly, he lets go and pushes her down on the bed. A look of abject disgust adorning his features, he storms out of the room. She hears a key turn in the lock and winces, realizing he's locked her in. He doesn't usually do that – he generally prefers to deal with her himself, but now she supposes he's too angry to even be close to her right now. This is his way of controlling her.

Sometimes she wonders why she stays with Michael, but she supposes it's just another arcane way for her to punish herself. Michael is there to remind her daily how stupid and worthless and unlovable she is, so she doesn't have to remind herself.

When she was younger, Alex's method of self-destruction was food. As a child, she would eat whenever the pain got to be too much for her to bear. She would stuff herself full of cookies and chocolate bars, not satisfied until her already chubby body got even plumper, as her parents looked on, aghast at what their beautiful little girl was doing to her body. Eating numbed the pain for Alex and so she was determined to do it all the time, not caring about the potentially negative repercussions.

Then, as a teenager, she learned a better way to cope. When she was overwhelmed, she stopped eating. It was strangely liberating to have no food inside her whatsoever, going days without eating anything but a stick of sugar free gum. Alex marveled at the fact that humans can go three weeks without eating anything at all and decided to test the theory. She felt a perverse sense of satisfaction as she stood on the scale every morning, watching the pounds melt off her body.

Now, she uses Michael as a means to the same end. It's the self-hatred that forces her to keep him around, because instead of punishing herself, he punishes her. She's Assistant District Attorney Alexandra Cabot, but her Ice Queen façade is a mere wall to hide her own insecurities.

Alex rolls onto her side and curls up in a ball, clutching her knees to her chest and trying to blink back her tears.

I know this chapter was kind of graphic, so no flames. Review for more!