Breathing Pal Novels & Stories

The air inside his chest seemed to have been sucked out by him, Sweet Pea was breathing hard, her cheeks were not sure whether because of lack of oxygen or because of being kissed by him, but Sweet Pea couldn't stand it anymore. With both hands pounding on his chest, Brene Brian was clearly still unsatisfied, but fortunately he still had a bit of humanity left, letting her go, Sweet Pea was freed, hastily sniffed to In contrast, Brene Brian was beside her, her breathing was very calm, her face was not red, her heart was not beating fast, her eyes were cold.

The gasps coming from me sounded horrible and fear made me panic harder, and panicking made it harder to breathe. Strong arms encircled me and held my shoulder, a distant voice speaking very calmly and instructing me to inhale. I was still gasping, my fingers white from fisting too hard while a soothing hand landed on my chest, and I could hear the word, “Breathe.” Being repeated rhythmically and in what felt like hours, cool, fresh air rushed into my lungs and my gasping ceased.

JORDAN The door creaks open. Voices spill into the bathroom—louder, closer. My entire body jerks. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. And I—I can’t breathe. My heart slams against my ribs as the men enter, laughing, dragging the reek of cigarette smoke and sweat with them. I press myself tighter against Alaric’s chest, trying to disappear. I expect him to push me away, maybe toss some smug comment at me, or reveal me just to watch me squirm. But he doesn’t.

"Feel the power inside you. It's there, buzzing just beneath your skin." "It's terrifying." "Power always is but fear makes you lose control. So we breathe through it." My thumbs press gently at the base of her neck. "In through your nose, slow, hold for three counts, out through your mouth." She tries and it's shaky at first. "Again. Find the rhythm." She breathes once, twice, three times. The glow around her hands dims slightly. "Good. You're already learning." "It doesn't feel like learning. It feels like drowning."

What? "You’re forcing it." He explained. She quickly replied him saying — "Yea cos I can’t breathe!—" but he shushed her. "For a patient who needs my help, you sure are a chatter box." He ignored the heavy stare she gave him and continued in a gentle tone, "The more you force a deep breath, the worse it gets." Christopher slowly demonstrated. "Try what I'm doing," He inhaled gently through his nose. Not a huge breath, rather just a normal one. Then he exhaled slowly.

"I can't breathe properly." "Yes you can." I moved in front of him. Made him look at me. "You're having a panic attack. It's going to pass. But right now you need to breathe with me. In through your nose. Four counts. Hold for four. Out through your mouth. Four counts. Can you do that?" He nodded.

I heard Nick yell from downstairs. “Hurry! Bring him upstairs to my room!” I screamed back. Dr. Ping entered the room and watched everything around the room cautiously. He then went towards nana and pulled out a sphygmomanometer from his briefcase and checked Nana’ blood pressure while lay there still. My heart beat rapidly increased by the passing minute.

When I initially started playing professionally, I consulted a sports psychologist who taught me a breathing method. Breathe in carefully for five counts, hold the breath for five counts, and then release the breath on the fifth count. Five times over, repeat. I picture a spotless sheet of white while I work. A chilly air on my skin, a ring of boards and glass around me, enclosing and grounding me, and a huge slab of ice beneath my feet.

His chest rose and fell painfully as he struggled to breathe. “Tell me… how do I breathe?”