Sound Breathing Novels & Stories

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.

His gaze is steady. "Just breathe," he whispers. "I'm breathing. I'm fine. I'm okay. I'm fine. I'm completely fine. I'm totally fine. I'm perfectly fine." "You're not. You're holding your breath. You're gripping my arm like I'm going to disappear. You're white as a sheet. You're shaking. You're about to pass out. You're about to run." I exhale. Slowly. Deliberately. I force my shoulders to drop. I force my jaw to unclench. I force my hands to relax. I force my heart to slow.

“I-Is it really over?” Then, I saw a note on the backseat. Breathe. You’ll be all right. I’ll see you soon. – Karlie “It’s all right,” a woman’s voice said. “No one can hear you in here.” The sob that escaped me rattled through my whole body. Memories flashed through my mind. I could barely breathe around them. “Hey,” the woman said again. I couldn’t even look up. My vision was spiraling and shaking. “Keep breathing. That’s it. Keep breathing. Slow. Follow me… In… Out… In… Out…”

My breathing doesn’t. I stand. The forest shifts. The pressure returns, sharp and immediate. Something is watching. Too close. Then a scream tears through the trees. High. Thin. A child’s voice. It cuts off abruptly. Like a door slamming shut. My body drops to one knee before I consciously decide to move. Training. Breath in. Breath out. Count. Three. Four. Five. The forest returns to silence. When I finally lift my head, the trees look exactly the same as before.

"Good. Now breathe with me. In for four counts. Ready? One, two, three, four." I try to match his breathing. It's hard. My lungs won't cooperate. "That's okay. Try again. In for four. One, two, three, four." Slowly, gradually, my breathing starts to even out. The tunnel vision recedes. The racing heartbeat slows. "That's it. You're doing great. Keep breathing. You're okay. You're safe. I've got you." His voice is steady. Calm. Grounding. After several minutes, I can breathe normally again. The panic recedes, leaving me shaky and embarrassed.

“You keep proving it.” I wasn’t sure what to do with that. So I didn’t do anything. “Start with breath,” he said. I did. It steadied me faster than I expected. “Good. Now heartbeat.” I found it. Still too fast, but not wild. “Now,” he said softly, “we start with voices.” I blinked. “Voices?” “Yes.” “That sounds… creepy.” “It’s not,” he said. “It’s awareness. Learning which sounds are yours, which aren’t, and which ones only pretend to be.”

“I… I don't know. I… I can't breathe. I feel faint. What's wrong with me? What's… what's happening? I… I can't breathe—” “Shit! Shit! Shit.” I felt the bed dip and she pulled me into a hug, my head against her chest. “Follow my breathing method, okay?” I nodded. “Now, shut your eyes. On the count of three, okay?” I nodded again, my chest tight. “One, two, three. Go.” She drew a deep breath and I struggled to copy her. And when she exhaled, I did also. “You're doing amazing,” she said softly. “Now let's keep going.”

But the thought he had believed so coherent in his mind came out as a garbled mess of air and words. Her hold tightened on him, but her voice stayed calm, and after some time had passed, he didn't know how long, he looked up at her and followed her instructions to breathe. “In,” she told him, “and out.” She smiled. “See, you're doing it. Just keep breathing. Inhale on a count to five, exhale on a count to five. You've got this. You can do this. I know you can do this.” He didn't know how long it took before he believed her. Or how long after he believed her that his breathing actually reflected it.

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.

“You’re safe now. I’m here. Just breathe, baby. Focus on your breathing.” I tried. God, I tried. Each breath was a war, my chest tight like it was bound by invisible ropes. But I heard him, and I clung to the sound of his voice. “Inhale with me. In… and out. That’s it. Nice and slow.” I focused on him. On the rhythm of his breath. The weight of his hand in mine. The slow, grounding strokes he drew across my back. “You’re doing great, sputafuoco,” he murmured. “Just keep breathing. I’ve got you.”