Sound Breathing Novels & Stories

"Listen to my voice, and if at any time you feel uncomfortable, I want you to tell me." "Okay," Chrissie said, not taking her eyes off the dot on the ceiling. Dr. Gray droned on in a soothing voice, "Take a deep breath in..." Chrissie's lungs filled up. "Let it out...again...hear the soothing sounds around you, focus only on your breathing and the sounds...every time you breathe in...breathe out...you'll feel yourself getting more and more relaxed...deeper into relaxation...in...out..." He spoke on about breathing for several minutes, studying Chrissie closely, and Race saw her grow more and more calm and tranquil. But when he realized that he was inhaling and exhaling along with her, gettin

I focused on his touch- tried to focus on his touch but my breathing was too rough and I could hardly hear anything that was said. “That's it, Sara, keep breathing slowly in and out” And I listened. I breathed deeply, in through the nose and out through the mouth. I did my best to slow down but I couldn't help but think that I needed to get out of there now. “1. 2, 3,4” He counted with my breathing.

Slowly, deliberately, I inhaled and exhaled, hoping he would mimic me. At first, there was no response. His gaze remained distant, and his chest rose and fell erratically. But I didn’t stop. “You’re doing great,” I encouraged, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Just keep trying.” Gradually, almost imperceptibly at first, his breathing began to shift. The quick, shallow gasps slowed, becoming more measured as he started to match my rhythm. I continued to guide him, keeping my tone soft and consistent. “In through your nose,” I repeated gently, drawing in a long breath. “Out through your mouth.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’ll smother you with his need. Focus on me. Breathe with me.” She gasped, her body convulsing, her nails scraping bloody lines into the floor. My grip tightened. “I said breathe.” My voice dropped lower, each word carrying weight. “In. Out. Match me.” I exaggerated a breath, slow, deep, filling my chest, then releasing it steadily. Her trembling lips tried to follow, shaky, broken, but each time she faltered I repeated it, relentless, until the ragged edge of her gasps began to sync faintly with mine.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. Look at me, Lyra.” I tried. Goddess, I tried. “Breathe,” he murmured, lowering his face to mine, his voice steady despite the blood dripping down his wrist. “Slowly. Like this.” He inhaled deeply, exaggerating each breath so I could follow. In. Out. In. Out. I clung to the rhythm, to the sound of his voice, to the warmth of his hand. My lungs, stubborn at first, finally obeyed. My breaths lengthened. The ringing in my ears faded.

My breath comes faster, chest fig‌hting for space. Come on. Move. I pres‌s a⁠gain, usin‌g my shoul‌der, my knee, anything. The sl‍ab shifts a few centimeters, en‌ough f‌or a breath of cooler air to snake throu⁠gh. I suc⁠k it in greedily, choking halfway.‍ My head spi‍ns, stars‍ b‌u⁠rsting behind my⁠ eyelid‌s.

“I know it’s hard. I know this feels like it’s never going to be over, but it’ll pass, Nora. I promise you can get through this.” Nora gasped again, trying and nodding. “Focus on breathing, Nora,” He murmured. “That’s what you need to do. Try breathing through your nose. Go slow.” Nora obeyed again. Closing her mouth, she inhaled again before finally exhaling. It felt like goddamn relief. The pressure in her chest eased, and Nora did it again, breathing in sharply before exhaling. The pounding in her ears also subsided. “Good. Keep going.” Liam stroked her back with his wide palm.

He did not say anything about it. Sophia saw it too. He knew she saw it because her shoulders adjusted — not relaxing, not yet, but the specific micro-shift of someone incorporating new data. Ethan was breathing. He had the sequence Dr. Sable had given him — the inhale count, the hold, the exhale — and he was executing it with the focused discipline of a child who had been doing breathing exercises every morning for three weeks and had understood from the beginning that understanding why something worked made you more likely to do it correctly.

I breathed. In through the nose, out slow, the way I had been doing it for five years whenever things got loud and I needed my hands steady. The same technique I had used on the kitchen floor and at windows in the dark and in corridors outside his office and on a roof in the cold. I knew how to do this. I had been training for this without knowing it. Slow. In through the nose, out slow. The same way I had breathed through forty minutes of a headache three nights ago. The same technique I had been using for five years when things got loud and I needed my hands steady.

Memories of water gushing through made my heart race, like I couldn't get enough air. “Breathe,” Silas said calmly. “I’ve got you.” Then he took the hand he was holding and guided it slowly upward until my palm pressed flat against his bare chest, right over his heart. I focussed on the steady thump-thump-thump of his heartbeat, letting my breathing fall into the same pace as his until my own breaths slowly began to soften and steady. “You’re doing good,” voice low enough that it blended with the water. “Let’s stay like this a minute longer. Just feel it.”