Broken: A New Life. (Lauren Cimorelli Story. BOOK 2)

Chapter 2.

I've done all morning procedures, and walked into the room. Pulling out of the closet jeans and a T-shirt, I got dressed, I turned on the TV, put the kettle on and began combing my hair.

I rented a small studio apartment. On the side of the door was a small chest, just above it hangs a mirror. Hallway not separated from the room. The right wall was separated by the bedroom. Near the window stood a large double bed, bedside table beside her delicate milky. On the other side of the bed was a large corner cabinet. On the floor, a soft brown carpet. Near the door of the closet in a small bathroom. On the other hand kitchen door it begins. It was a refrigerator, on the wall of stone kitchen with a stove and a sink. There was a bar, which was a small LCD, TV, coffee machine and an old microwave.
Behind the counter a small table where I eat, it is also worth a laptop. I was sitting on a little comfortable sofa. In general, a beautiful and comfortable apartment, I rented it, of course, is not cheap, but my savings and money from work to help me live.

  When the kettle boiled, I drank tea and began to gather.

Put all the documents in the bag, I put on shoes, threw a light blue jacket and went out into the entryway. It was a little difficult to get used to the apartment after the house, but I'm more or less used to it.

Out on the street, I went down the familiar street. In New York, it was different than in Los Angeles. There was no cozy cottages with beautiful gardens on both sides of the road. But there were gray high-rises, if the center of New York City, they look very nice, the area where I live, they are not beautiful and terrible. It ran mad dogs, which I'm afraid to horror. In the evening, there were drunken companies who shouted under the windows and prevent sleep.

And the cafe where I worked wasn't so popular. In the afternoon it was the ice-cream parlor, and sat there mostly teenagers and mothers with children, and in the evening the cafe turned into a pub where people come all drunks and drug addicts. Often to be found, and the man who used to sit in jail.

 I worked two by two. That is, in nine am I came and went from there at eleven pm. And so two days and two days off. Head we have a very strict, but it often goes, so it manages Margo.  When the owner is not present, Margo let me stay the night in the cafe when I'm working, sometimes I just really scared to go home at eleven pm alone. This is not Malibu, where dark around midnight, and New York, where in the dark in nine. Margo understands that I have a child and offered me her office to slept in a cozy coatch.

When i came to the hospital, I took me to the front desk map and began to climb the stairs to the third floor, thinking it'll sit in a queue for three hours and again I will catch myself condemning the views of adult mothers.

But near the office was empty. I even thought I messed up the day of admission, but it is true, August 8th. I knocked to a white door, I heard the invitation and entered the spacious, bright room.

Miss Finnet saw me, smiled graciously, and got up from the table.

"Hello, Lauren! So how are you?"

"All fine." I smiled, jacket and bag hanging on a hanger, standing near the door.

"Well it's good, that everything is fine," laughed Miss Finnet.

Then she went to the small room. One minute later, she called me to her. I went into the room where there was a couch. To her left was a chair, and a device with the TV.

"Turn off your shirt and ran jeans. We will see your baby."

I smiled happily, undressed and lay down on the couch.

The doctor washed her hands, smeared my belly some gel and picked up some little thing connected to the screen.

"Ready?"

I nodded.