Thomas
has a lot of flashbacks in the story. His flashbacks are more in dreams though.
When Thomas falls asleep he sees of his life before he lost his memory. But
there is 3 other kids with him and most of his memories are blurry after a day
he cannot remember anything about them usually. One of his flashbacks was:
"He's sitting in a chair. Ten or eleven years old. Teresa- she looks so different, so much younger, yet it's still clearly her- sits across from him, a table between them. She's about his age. No one else is in the room, a dark place with only one light- a dull square of yellow in the ceiling directly overhead.
'Tom, you need to try harder,' she says. Her arms are folded and even at this young age, it's a look he doesn't find surprising. It's very familiar. As if he has already known her for a long time.
'I am trying.' Again it's him speaking, but not really him. It doesn't make sense.
'They'll probably kill us if we can't do this.'
'I know.'
'Then try!'
'I am!'
'Fine,' she says. 'You know what? I'm not speaking out loud to you anymore. Never ever again until you can do it.'
'But-'
Not inside your mind, either. She's talking in his head. That trick that still freaks him out and he still can't reciprocate. Starting now.
'Teresa, just give me a few more days. I'll
get it.'
She doesn't respond.
'Okay, just one more day.'
She only stares at him. Then, not even
that. She looks down at the table, reaches out and starts scratching a spot in
the wood with her fingernail.
'There’s no way you're not gonna talk to
me.'
No response. And he knows her, despite what
he just said. Oh, he knows her.
'Fine,' he says. He closes his eyes, does
what the instructor told him to do. Imagines a sea of black nothingness, interrupted
only by the image of Teresa's face. Then with every last bit of willpower, he
forms the words and throws them at her.
You smell like a bag of crap.
Teresa smiles, then replies in his mind. So do you." (Dashner Pg. 124-125)
"He's sitting in a chair. Ten or eleven years old. Teresa- she looks so different, so much younger, yet it's still clearly her- sits across from him, a table between them. She's about his age. No one else is in the room, a dark place with only one light- a dull square of yellow in the ceiling directly overhead.
'Tom, you need to try harder,' she says. Her arms are folded and even at this young age, it's a look he doesn't find surprising. It's very familiar. As if he has already known her for a long time.
'I am trying.' Again it's him speaking, but not really him. It doesn't make sense.
'They'll probably kill us if we can't do this.'
'I know.'
'Then try!'
'I am!'
'Fine,' she says. 'You know what? I'm not speaking out loud to you anymore. Never ever again until you can do it.'
'But-'
Not inside your mind, either. She's talking in his head. That trick that still freaks him out and he still can't reciprocate. Starting now.
'Teresa, just give me a few more days. I'll
get it.'
She doesn't respond.
'Okay, just one more day.'
She only stares at him. Then, not even
that. She looks down at the table, reaches out and starts scratching a spot in
the wood with her fingernail.
'There’s no way you're not gonna talk to
me.'
No response. And he knows her, despite what
he just said. Oh, he knows her.
'Fine,' he says. He closes his eyes, does
what the instructor told him to do. Imagines a sea of black nothingness, interrupted
only by the image of Teresa's face. Then with every last bit of willpower, he
forms the words and throws them at her.
You smell like a bag of crap.
Teresa smiles, then replies in his mind. So do you." (Dashner Pg. 124-125)