Hey, are you still asleep? Teresa spoke in Thomas's mind.

What time is it?

No idea, I wanna talk to someone, I can't get to sleep. Rachel told me to go away and Aris is refusing to respond.

So, I'm your last choice? Thomas couldn't help feeling slightly hurt at that.

No, I sent that first message to everyone.

Well no wonder they're annoyed. Thomas wasn't exactly thrilled to have been awoken just because Teresa couldn't sleep, but he didn't want her to stop talking to him either.

Why can't you sleep? He continued.

I keep thinking of Grievers, how are we going to get it all out of our heads? That Thomas didn't know, however much he wished there was an easy answer none materialised.

Those images would never leave―the Gladers would be haunted by the horrible things that had happened in the Maze for the rest of their lives. He figured that most if not all of them would have major psychological problems. Maybe even go completely nutso.

And above it all, he had one image burned into his memories as strongly as a branded mark from a searing hot iron. His friend Chuck, stabbed in the chest, bleeding, dying as Thomas held him.

Thomas knew he would never forget that. But what he said to Teresa was: It'll go away. Just takes a little time, that's all.

You're so full of it, she said.

I know. How ridiculous was it that he loved hearing her say something like that to him? That her sarcasm meant things were going to be okay? You're an idiot, he told himself, then hoped she didn't hear that thought.

Go to sleep Thomas. The irritation in Rachel's voice told him that if he was in reach she would have punched him. That meant he had somehow sent that message to everyone, wonderful. Aris was doing what Teresa had said: either shut himself off from the telepathy completely or was just ignoring them.

I hate that they separated us. That made Thomas smile in the darkness, the people here didn't trust teenage boys and girls to share sleeping space, which was amusing, in the Glade it had been the norm.

Guess we'll have to get used to it.

Yeah. Teresa's sigh was audible.

Neither of them spoke for a few minutes, Thomas could feel himself drifting back off to sleep. He could feel her presence, sense that she was close, it was a great comfort.

He had no concept of time passing while in that state. Half asleep, half enjoying her presence and the thought that they'd been rescued from that horrible place. That they were safe, that he and Teresa could get to know each other all over again. That life could be good.

Blissful sleep. Hazy darkness. Warmth. A physical glow. Almost floating.

The world seemed to fade away. All became numb and sweet. And the darkness, somehow comforting. He slipped into a dream.

He's very young. Four, maybe? Five? Lying in a bed with blankets pulled to his chin.

A woman sits next to him, her hands folded in her lap. She has long brown hair, a face just beginning to show signs of age. Her eyes are sad. He knows this even though she's trying very hard to hide it with a smile.

He wants to say something, ask her a question. But he can't. He's not really here. Just witnessing it all from a place he doesn't quite understand. She begins to talk, a sound so simultaneously sweet and angry it disturbs him.

"I don't know why they chose you, but I do know this. You're special somehow. Never forget that. And never forget how much"―her voice cracks and tears run down her face―"never forget how much I love you."

The boy replies, but it's not really Thomas speaking. Even though it is him. None of it makes sense. "Are you gonna be crazy like all those people on TV, Mommy? Like ... Daddy?"

The woman reaches out and runs her fingers through his hair. Woman? No, he can't call her that. This is his mother. His ... mommy.

"Don't you worry about that, honey," she says. "You won't be here to see it."

Her smile has gone away.

Too fast the dream faded into blackness, leaving Thomas in a void with nothing but his thoughts. Had he seen another memory crawl up from the depths of his amnesia? Had he really seen his mom? There'd been something about his dad being crazy. The ache inside Thomas was deep and gnawing, and he tried to sink further into oblivion.

Later―how much later he had no idea―Teresa spoke to him again.

Tom, something's wrong.

That was how it started. He heard Teresa say those three words, but it seemed from far away, as if spoken down a long and cluttered tunnel. His slumber had become a viscous liquid, thick and sticky, trapping him. He became aware of himself, but realized he was removed from the world, entombed by exhaustion. He couldn't wake up.

Thomas! Teresa screamed it, somewhere he thought he heard Rachel. Aris jerking out of sleep on the bunk above him, but this was all in the real world, not the dream-limbo state where Thomas was somehow trapped.

it had to be a dream. Teresa was fine, they were all fine. He relaxed again, let himself drown in slumber.

Other sounds snuck their way into his consciousness. Thumps. The clang of metal against metal. Something shattering. Boys shouting. More like the echo of shouts, very distant, muted. Suddenly they became more like screams. Unearthly cries of anguish. But still distant. As if he'd been wrapped in a thick cocoon of dark velvet.

Finally, something pricked the comfort of sleep. This wasn't right. Teresa had called for him, told him something was wrong! He fought the deep sleep that had consumed him, clawed at the heavy weight pinning him down.

Wake up! he yelled at himself. Wake up!

Then something disappeared from inside him. There one instant, gone the next. He felt as if a major organ had just been ripped from his body.

It had been her, Teresa. She was gone.

So was Rachel, only Aris was left. Thomas could feel the odd buzz of the other boy using the telepathy but could not hear the words.

Teresa! he screamed out with his mind. Rachel! Are you there?

But there was nothing, and he no longer felt that comforting sense of Teresa's closeness. He called her name again, then again, as he continued to struggle against the dark pull of sleep.

Finally, reality swept in, washed away the darkness. Engulfed in terror, Thomas opened his eyes and shot to a sitting position on his bed, scooted out until he got his feet under him and jumped up. Looked around.

Everything had gone utterly insane.