Breath Caught Novels & Stories

My breath catches in my throat. Gods.

My breath caught. What was he about to tell me?

I wasn't expecting anyone. My breath caught.

I can barely breathe, panting and gasping hard, choking on my tears in my furious rigidity as I strain my limbs to keep him at bay “Please stop, look at me…. We’re not back in Illinois. Sophie, were in Manhattan, you’re in my apartment, baby. You’re safe…. Breathe, slow and steady, breathe with me; listen to me. Focus on my voice and breathe…” His soothing tone comes through the panic once more, connecting to me on some level and I lose all resolve. Fight in me dying as fatigue overtakes me and I realize I am held tight in his arms. His muscles, his strength as he holds me taut, so my body is immobile. Gasping and shoving with all my might and strangling myself with the inability to catch my

I stopped breathing. He unclipped it in one smooth movement.

I muttered. But my thumb betrayed me. The screen changed. Calling… My breath caught. The phone rang once. Twice. I held my breath, heart pounding so loud it drowned out everything else “Hello–”

One more— Breath.

I stayed there frozen on my seat, unable to move an inch. “Breather in and breathe out. Breathe in and then breathe out….” I kept chanting those continuously until I could finally calm my nerves. “You can do this, Aiv! You’re a strong girl.” I mentally prepared myself and slowly turned my head to see the “person” staring right through the window at me with its dark ashy green eyes. I felt a chill run down my spine. It was like someone had poured icy cold water on my naked body in winter. Our eyes locked for a second,but before I could come back to my consciousness, he disappeared.

My breath catches in my throat, as my eyes shoot wide, my body freezes in place, and my ears perk- in case, they declare this as a fluke of words. Wait, how did this even happen?

So I rushed out the door that morning, my neck red and my throat swollen, to avoid Brendan’s offering of cereal and eggs. &n bsp; I flip down the car mirror and gingerly touch the marks. The ghost of Emmett’s fingers are swollen and perfect indentations. The more I look at them, the more they distort and twist, and my mind flashes back to silent suffocation, the primal desire for air, the sinking feeling that I was at his mercy. I hadn’t been able to move or make a sound, my breath lodged in my throat, Emmett’s fingers stopping it. Fuck them.