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37 pages

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Country girl endured living with an alcoholic father, stepmom, biological mom, and siblings were considered a dysfunctional family. Unbelievable mental and physical abuse led to family separation. Transitioning from the country to the city hardships, embraced me with not understanding my own identity. The journey of being abandoned, molested, early motherhood, and incarceration was already written. During the process of not actually knowing how to live in my own skin I decided to make a huge step in the career world and became a 911 operator. I didn't realize that God was preparing me to tell the world that he is real. In the end God gave me credit for not completely giving up on him by blessing me with a husband, son daughter, and the patience to keep him first. And that's LilLuxurious's Story. Prayer does changes things.

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Biography

Autobiography

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Publié par	Xlibris US
Date de parution	27 mai 2016
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781514478202
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0200€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

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The Life of Luxurious

Luxurious Breed

Copyright © 2016 by Luxurious Breed.

Library of Congress Control Number: 2016906681
ISBN:    Hardcover    978-1-5144-7822-6
              Softcover      978-1-5144-7821-9
             eBook           978-1-5144-7820-2

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 05/25/2016

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CONTENTS
Family
Lewiston
Transition to Bonner Alabama
Parenthood
The Accident
Incarceration
Family
M y name is Luxurious Breed. I was born January 14 1986, on a Monday in Dillard County, Alabama. Like any other child, I was born at Timely Hosptial, about 10.6 miles from a small southern town of Lewiston Alabama.
My father, Max Breed, was working at Dan’s Grocery Store in Lewiston Alabama, when I was growing up. In Lewiston, there were not many grocery stores. Everybody in the community shopped at that particular one. My mom, Christina Breed, was a stay at home mom, and relied on my father’s income.
My sister, Sarah, was older than me by one year. We both celebrated our birthdays on the fourteenth of the month of January. When we were younger, we used to fight a lot about clothes, hair products, and me taking so much time in the bathroom fixing my hair. When I was younger, and even later on, my sister, Sarah had always tried to be more of a mom to me than a sister. She would always try to tell me what to do and be bossy. Despite her demanding behaviors, she was always momma’s and dad’s baby. She would cry more than any other sibling in the family.
My other sisters are younger than me. Ashley was smart in school. We named her the nerd of the family because she always made good grades in school, and wore glasses.
Rachel was the baby of the family; she was spoiled. My dad and mom spoiled her. We could barely say anything to her. They over protected her.
I have two other brothers. Mark was the oldest, and Adrian was two years younger. Adrian played football #73 and was known as the jokester, because he always made jokes on people. He was an A, B honor roll student. He played his role as the big brother. He always protects his siblings; and he excelled in his school work.
Besides my father, mother, and siblings, we had a family friend, who lived with us named Sheila T. Ross. Due to the segregation in the South, when she was growing up, she did not attend any formal educational programs. That made it very hard for her to get any employment. She relied on my dad’s income as well as her mental disability income.
Lewiston
L ewiston, a small southern town about 45 miles west of Tuscaloosa, the home of The Crimson Tide. Football in Lewiston is more of a culture. Lewiston was a simple place to live in. Most people there work at a fish plant, had a farm or knew how to hunt in order to survive. The majority of the residents got alone and taught their kids to respect the elderly. Throughout the time when I live down there the stores didn’t sell name brand clothes and shoes. The mall in Tuscaloosa was way too far for my dad to drive to. Overall the people work together to get ahead. As a child I always felt like my freedom was when I went to school. I loved all my teachers especially Mrs. Hause. Well most of the students loved her. She was the P.E. teacher and had a passion for helping the students. Mr. Date and Mr. Gulley was the principal at that time. They both paddle the students with a wooden paddle as a punishment when in trouble during school hours. The school bus driver was named Miss Leyden. When a child acts up on the school bus she would personally tell their parents.
The whole family and Sheila T. Ross stayed in a yellow wooden house across the Townson River in Lewiston, Alabama; the area was known as Treestone. There weren’t any traffic lights; just “stop” signs. If you drove down the street near our house, you could see residents working on their cars, drinking beer under the tree shade, and most of the time just walking around outside barefooted. The house was a three-bedroom house with an isolated room at the back. All the girls slept in one room and Mark and Adrian shared a room; my dad and mom took the main bedroom, while the family friend, Sheila T. Ross slept in the isolated room. It seemed weird but that’s the way my dad wanted it to be.
My mom always prepared southern-style meals. I always enjoyed her sweet corn bread and grape Kool-Aid. Sheila always receives her plate last: the left overs. I actually thought it was a part of life as long as she ate since she lived with us.
My dad always comes back from work at around 4:00 p.m. Most of the time, he would buy his alcoholic beverage from a heavy set black man named Mr. Mike. Mr. Mike used to sell alcohol from his truck to the people in the community in Perry, Alabama, ten minutes away from our house; most of the time that was my dad’s routine. Apart from my dad working at the grocery store, he pastored at Shiloh Baptist Church in Perry, Alabama. My sisters and I were in the church choir. Our choir director was the person of the world. Mrs. Nancy Warren had long, jet black hair, and a smile that gives light to the world.
After church, my dad would still stop at Mr. Mike’s truck and buy his alcoholic drink. My mom looked depressed when she sees that. Her facial expression signified discontentment because we knew his character was about to change.
When my dad got drunk he became abusive, mentally and physically. He would find stuff at the house to raise rage about. One day, he came home and noticed that the fire wood wasn’t cut by my brothers. He started yelling at them to the extent of calling other men bastards. Being little, I felt afraid. Neither my mom, nor Sheila will ever say anything. I thought they were afraid, too. My dad was the provider and head of the house. Sheila used to smoke cigarettes. One day, my dad went to her room at the back of the house and noticed cigarettes butts and ashes on the floor. He started yelling, accusing Sheila of setting the house on fire. He later went to the corner of his closet, where he used to keep long wooden sticks that he used to beat Sheila with to keep her tamed. I watched him get the wooden stick, walked back to Sheila’s room and began striking her with it many times. Sheila just screamed and pleaded for help. Nobody in the house would say anything. After beating her, my dad would order her to clean the cigarette ashes and butts off the floor. She always looked defeated and about to give up during those many times my dad would beat her.
Inside his closet, my dad had a razor strap. A razor strap is a flexible strap of leather used to straighten and polish the blade of a straight razor, a knife, or a wood working tool. He never sharpened any tools with the razor strap. He mainly used it to beat my siblings and me. Rachel and Ashley never got any whippings. They rarely got into trouble. Daddy never hesitates to use it. Every time Sarah and I would fight and my daddy found out, Sarah would always run and hide to keep from getting a whipping; plus daddy would always fall asleep and forget about whipping her. I would always let him beat me just to get it over with. At the age of nine, my sister, Sarah, and I got into a huge fight and I was again wearing her clothes, but this time, I put on her pants without her knowing and she found out by my sister. Sarah came rushing toward me throwing her arms and head saying, “You better take my pants off right now and give them to me.” We went back and forth arguing until my dad heard us and rushed in the house, where we were yelling. “I’m about to beat ya’ll butts and show ya’ll how to get alone.” Sarah ran faster than the speed of light to hide. I didn’t want to feel the painful licks from the razor strap. I ran underneath the bunk bed that Ashley and I shared but he saw exactly where I ran to. The bunk bed was too heavy for him to pick up by himself so I remember him swinging the razor strap under the bed like a fan blade turning at me. I scooted all the way to the wall underneath the bed, praying that the hard razor strap doesn’t hit me. Thank God, it didn’t. My dad swung it at me until he got tired. He eventually lay down to sleep, the alcohol off, my dad forgot to whip Sarah as usual. Also at the age of nine, my big brother, Mark, taught me how to ride my first bike. That was a happy day for me. He didn’t give up on helping me until I got it right.
On July 28, 1994, I was outside helping my brother, Mark, dig for worms for bait to fish with at the Desirist Pond about three miles from the yellow house. While being disgusted by the slimy creatures, the Barnes and Summers’ boys walked in the yard, ready to go fishing with my two brothers. My dad gave the resident family a nickname he made up. Anyway, I remember my two brothers and the rest of the boys walking toward the Desirist Ponds. Later, while in the house, my dad and the rest of us loaded up to go to Dan’s grocery store. We left Sheila outside, talking to her cigarette buddy, Rail. The both of them were very much compatible. They both were born in Segregation time and loved to smoke cigarettes. My dad never left Sheila in the house while we weren’t there. My mom grabbed her purse, while my sisters and I searched the house for loose change. We arrived at the grocery store in Lewiston, where my dad greet