Sometimes Robbie has nightmares, as everyone else has from time to time. Though he can't remember everything clearly it's always the same nightmare; flashing lights, a screeching sound, screaming and something splashing over his face. When he wakes up he's covered in cold sweat, fumbling with the lamp on the nightstand and grabbing after the rude dummy lying in a small bed beside his own, the mere presence of the inanimate object calming the teen greatly, and he can soon go back to sleep, Rex back in his bed and light turned off.
But the nightmares aren't truly nightmares, but rather repressed memories. Robbie didn't remember it, but when he was five he had a friend whom went by the name Rex. He was cocky, a little rude and almost mean. He didn't run from girls screaming "cooties", always talked back to the adults and was very admired by all the other kids in the neighborhood. Though the two of them had nothing in common, they were the best of friends, even if Rex always teased the spectacled boy daily, he always stood up for him.
Then one day there was no more Rex.
It had been raining all week, the roads slippery and the visibility bad. The two boys, dressed in colorful raincoats and boots, had been playing at the side of the road when the ball flew onto the street, Rex running after it.
The driver had no chance of stopping in time.