FULL NAME: Oliver Jeremy Hart
BASE NAME: Nico Tortorella
ALIAS:
Being a law student in one of Hawaii's Universities means that Oliver Hart has been subjected to multiple nick-names throughout his schooling career. Such nicknames include the use of simply his surname - Hart - as well as a shortened version of his name - Oli. Yet, something most spectacular and unexpected from a law student, Oliver Hart leads another life whereby he is known as Razor. This is his stage name, and a name he holds closely onto in order to conceal his true identity from the religious followers of his band.
PERSONAL CREED:
"Sometimes I like to hang out with people who aren't that bright, you know, just to see how the other half lives."
"If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story."
"You avoid something for long enough, and it has the tendency to blindside you."
"I'm an ambitious person. I never consider myself in competition with anyone, and I'm not saying that from an arrogant standpoint, it's just that my journey started so, so long ago, and I'm still on it and I won't stand still."
"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."
"If A is a success in life, then A equals X plus Y plus Y. Work is X. Y is play. And Z is keeping your mouth shut."
"Do not hate me for playing the game."
"I'll help you bag those Harvard douches, and I'll be the best god-damn lawyer you've ever seen."
"My body is my journal. It reminds me who I am and where I came from."
GENDER: Male
AGE: 21
BIRTH DATE: 11 November
ORIENTATION: Straight
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Currently single
FAMILY STATUS:
Oliver Hart was born as the youngest boy in a family consisting of four siblings, including himself. He was born to a mediocre family with devout parents who held the concept of Catholicism close to their hearts. As a result of this, a great amount of pressure was put on each of the Hart children, which evidently caused some sense of animosity to develop between certain family members; however, Oliver always remained the "pet". He was, and still remains to be, the apple of his parents' eyes. Since the day he was born, Marie and Joseph Hart showed the young boy more attention than his siblings, moulding him into what they would have hoped to be a servant of the church one day. He showed the most intellectual potential out of the Hart siblings; however, the religious Hart parents refused to send him to a proper school, seeing such aspects of his childhood as trivial Devil's play. They believed that it would encourage sin to be welcomed into his heart. Because of this, Oliver was home schooled until the day that Demetria (the eldest sister) fought to free him from the madness, and to their dismay, they succumbed and allowed Oliver to attend a normal high school. To this day, Oliver still has a strong bond with the eldest sister, Demetria, because of the constant guidance she offered when their parents refused to see things through a sane eye.
With that being said, another obstacle would soon present itself when it was time for Oliver to "leave the nest" as some would call it. Again, his parents were smothering him, pushing him into a life of religion and walking down the path of the priest. Yet, this is not what his heart desired. His mind was curious, and it was alive; again, Demetria came to his aid and fought for his opportunity to attend college while the second eldest (Ruby) remained the mediator, making sure things did not get ugly between the feuding family of many differences. Ruby was always a religious soul and also served as one of the more "liked" family members between the Hart parents.
To this day, both Joseph and Marie are alive and healthy and remain proud of their son; however, they never openly admit this and still throw around the words "if only you had gone along the path of the Father". They do not know of Oliver's stage life, and still think of him as a holy virgin. It is needless to say that they remain oblivious to the many secrets Oliver hides so well from them.
With his non-profit work done at the local animal shelter, Oliver found himself falling in love with a little tan and black mongrel puppy. He adopted the little fellow, giving him a home, a loving family, and the name: Chase. Not soon after, Oliver fell in love with another little pup at the shelter, who he took in and gave her the name of Jinx. The trio are almost inseparable.
IS THE CHARACTER IN A GANG/LAW ENFORCEMENT AGENCY/CITIZEN: Citizen
STATE YOUR INDUSTRY AND OCCUPATION:
Oliver Hart leads two lives with two different occupations. Firstly, he has received a full scholarship as a full time student at the university of Hawaii, Oahu campus, where he is currently in his first year of his LLB degree (having finished his initial degree the previous year), and is partaking in electives such as psychology, sociology, and also attends courses based on forensic science. While this seems to present a career-hungry mind, there is another side to this young man that few may come to realize upon meeting him. Beneath the guise of Razor, his stage persona, Oliver Hart is part of a band called The Shelter Pups. The band was initially forged as a way to raise funding for the Hawaiian pet shelters that housed numerous animals that came from abusive homes, or lack thereof; they would perform shows that promoted the shelters and donated all money raised to the animals' food, accessories, and shelter. However, after the few months that the band worked together, they seemed eager to push themselves forward and enter into the music scene, where they would perform at, not only the little shows put on as fundraising, but on a larger scale. Albeit, a portion of all money earned still goes to the shelter at which Oliver remains a "paw aid".
PERSONALITY:
Oliver wears a complex myriad of masks, each concealing the true personality hidden beneath the guise of a handsome, charming young man. Yet when it boils down to the man behind the mask, Oliver is often one of the most misunderstood personalities one may ever come across. Many would suggest that he is a walking contradiction filled with an intensity like no other displayed both in the lecture halls and on the stage. Both guises that this young man is subjected to bear a fierce independence and determination, looking to accomplish anything and everything that he sets his mind to. He also enjoys some time on his own, sometimes shying away from large crowds of people so that he can simply enjoy his own company for a change; this has led to him evidently staying on his own away from the dorm rooms at the university and away from his parents and family. It is here that he is able to think without being nagged, and it is here that the creativity of his imagination stirs. The only beings he can tolerate being around for long periods of time are animals, whether they be horses and donkeys or dogs and cats, Oliver shares a love for all animals, showing a particularly strong bond with the adopted mongrels: Chase and Jinx
The personality that most associate Oliver Hart with is the charming young law student who bears a brilliance rarely seen in youthful men his age. He possesses a thirst for knowledge that few share, and an unnerving sense of curiosity that is never quite satisfied, causing him to constantly question those around him as well as their intentions. Who, what, where, and how? These are the multiple aspects that he often looks to inspect. Combined with his insatiable hunger to be the best of the best, and to be at the seat of power at the end of the day, the concept of becoming a law shark could never have suited someone so well. His determination to reach the ultimate success has caused him to work exceptionally hard to achieve what he wants, gaining a control on his life as well as his destiny. Without this sense of control, the young man becomes torn asunder and shattered; insecurity sets in and the intelligent mind loses its sense of awareness, which evidently spells disaster for Oliver Hart. Yet, it is not so easy to waver this bubble of control that Oliver has set around himself; he guards it well with walls built of flexibility, which permits him to re-survey a situation before taking a necessary different approach, in other words, causing him to become adaptable and versatile, finding a positive in every negative. This is not to be taken as optimism but more as a form of self-preservation, as an attempt to hold onto his sanity.
By nature, Oliver is a fierce competitor making his future career in law a wise one for this young man; he will argue a point using justifiable facts until he is named the victor; this is not only seen in his studies and mock trials but also in day to day basis when locked in a heated debate with a friend or passing acquaintance. Very few are able to sway his mind from where his opinions lie, simply because he knows his are backed by logical explanations and hard evidence instead of the fairy tale wishes that most young adults still possess. He is a realist, through and through. With his love of "the game" comes an uncanny ability to mix and manipulate words to deceive the untrained mind; with this advantage he is able to regain control over a chaotic situation, swinging it into his favour so that he may continue as planned, or quickly formulating a plan that better aids his cause. He is considerably weary of strangers, and does not offer his trust to easily to people he just meets; the person needs to gain his trust over months and years, often having to undergo subtle tests that prove the loyalty of the person. And once the good deeds have been achieved, then Oliver will undoubtedly show the victor the love, appreciation, and loyalty he believes they deserve. With that excellent mind coming into play, Oliver easily recalls each good deed done and also all those who harmed him in some way or another. This brings about his affinity to hold grudges for decades; he does not easily let things go, and will not simply sit then when faced with a person who has wronged him.
But what drove this small time boy into a large upscale area that demonstrated a diversity of people? It could be said that Oliver's urge to leave home was initiated by the dreams and goals he had set out for himself, to be one of those men dressed in a tailored suit walking down the corridor ordering people about, taking a stand in the court room and successfully defending a client that would ensure a hefty sum of money. It is unknown where this craving for wealth stems from, all that Oliver knows is that he needs to work hard to earn his pretty penny. With that being said, Oliver has developed a strong sense of wisdom when it comes to money and making decisions that may impact the outcome of his income. This has seen him take part in buying shares in companies, and trading on the stock exchange. A simple hobby to keep that alert mind of his in check.
When Razor is unleashed upon the night, the concept of the knowledge hungry power-driven enthusiast is dulled and overpowered by the on-stage persona that the stage performer possesses. The same intensity, determination, and ambition is demonstrated although in a different light; here Razor seeks to enthral all with the melodies strung from his guitar. His pride is in his performance, causing him to throw most of his energy into the entertainment of the crowd, whether it be with coy smiles or high jumps in the air. Here, the young man maintains the mysterious flair about him, which of course, drives many of his "fans" absolutely crazy for all want to uncover the secret that is Razor. People seem to be magnetically drawn to this persona, enjoying the air of mystery and secretiveness that surrounds him, giggling at the playful winks and dashing smiles. When he is beneath the guise of "Razor" a sense of freedom is achieved for he no longer has to push himself to his limits to achieve academic greatness; while he still maintains a constant pressure on himself to perform to his best ability, it is not as severe as that experienced when he is on campus.
Razor is a witty, fast-tongued, smooth talker, using his intelligence and way with words to easily manipulate any and all who would dare to listen. Many girls who have been on the receiving end of Razor's affection will often tell tales of the romantic gestures he performs such as a little serenade in the work place, or a rose left in the locker. When he is Razor, Oliver is the true ladies' man, yet still remains curt and like a gentleman, preferring to play a cat and mouse game before finally unwrapping his present.
Beneath all of the control, ambition, and pride, lies something deeper and closer to the heart. While Oliver may often appear to be detached emotionally and aloof, a closer look on the inside will reveal that the young man suffers the repression of intense emotions, both positive and negative. It seems like a constant saga raging within his mind, a battle between jealousy and loyalty, resentment and the need for a feeling of happiness. He is constantly trying to understand and wrap his head around the emotions that flood his system, searching for a deeper purpose in life. With that being said, Oliver is also extremely intuitive, not in a psychic sense, but rather he is more intuitive into the human mind, presenting with an uncanny understanding of the mystery and power of the human mind. Yet, he is not all seriousness and control-dependent, Oliver also enjoys some sense of fun and demonstrates a slightly playful attitude towards women, especially those that he holds a close friendship to or simply likes, enhancing the alluring mystery that clouds his aura.
CHARACTER IMAGE(S):
BASE NAME: Nico Tortorella
ALIAS:
Being a law student in one of Hawaii's Universities means that Oliver Hart has been subjected to multiple nick-names throughout his schooling career. Such nicknames include the use of simply his surname - Hart - as well as a shortened version of his name - Oli. Yet, something most spectacular and unexpected from a law student, Oliver Hart leads another life whereby he is known as Razor. This is his stage name, and a name he holds closely onto in order to conceal his true identity from the religious followers of his band.
PERSONAL CREED:
"Sometimes I like to hang out with people who aren't that bright, you know, just to see how the other half lives."
"If you want a happy ending, that depends, of course, on where you stop your story."
"You avoid something for long enough, and it has the tendency to blindside you."
"I'm an ambitious person. I never consider myself in competition with anyone, and I'm not saying that from an arrogant standpoint, it's just that my journey started so, so long ago, and I'm still on it and I won't stand still."
"Success is not final, failure is not fatal: it is the courage to continue that counts."
"If A is a success in life, then A equals X plus Y plus Y. Work is X. Y is play. And Z is keeping your mouth shut."
"Do not hate me for playing the game."
"I'll help you bag those Harvard douches, and I'll be the best god-damn lawyer you've ever seen."
"My body is my journal. It reminds me who I am and where I came from."
GENDER: Male
AGE: 21
BIRTH DATE: 11 November
ORIENTATION: Straight
RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Currently single
FAMILY STATUS:
Oliver Hart was born as the youngest boy in a family consisting of four siblings, including himself. He was born to a mediocre family with devout parents who held the concept of Catholicism close to their hearts. As a result of this, a great amount of pressure was put on each of the Hart children, which evidently caused some sense of animosity to develop between certain family members; however, Oliver always remained the "pet". He was, and still remains to be, the apple of his parents' eyes. Since the day he was born, Marie and Joseph Hart showed the young boy more attention than his siblings, moulding him into what they would have hoped to be a servant of the church one day. He showed the most intellectual potential out of the Hart siblings; however, the religious Hart parents refused to send him to a proper school, seeing such aspects of his childhood as trivial Devil's play. They believed that it would encourage sin to be welcomed into his heart. Because of this, Oliver was home schooled until the day that Demetria (the eldest sister) fought to free him from the madness, and to their dismay, they succumbed and allowed Oliver to attend a normal high school. To this day, Oliver still has a strong bond with the eldest sister, Demetria, because of the constant guidance she offered when their parents refused to see things through a sane eye.
With that being said, another obstacle would soon present itself when it was time for Oliver to "leave the nest" as some would call it. Again, his parents were smothering him, pushing him into a life of religion and walking down the path of the priest. Yet, this is not what his heart desired. His mind was curious, and it was alive; again, Demetria came to his aid and fought for his opportunity to attend college while the second eldest (Ruby) remained the mediator, making sure things did not get ugly between the feuding family of many differences. Ruby was always a religious soul and also served as one of the more "liked" family members between the Hart parents.
To this day, both Joseph and Marie are alive and healthy and remain proud of their son; however, they never openly admit this and still throw around the words "if only you had gone along the path of the Father". They do not know of Oliver's stage life, and still think of him as a holy virgin. It is needless to say that they remain oblivious to the many secrets Oliver hides so well from them.
With his non-profit work done at the local animal shelter, Oliver found himself falling in love with a little tan and black mongrel puppy. He adopted the little fellow, giving him a home, a loving family, and the name: Chase. Not soon after, Oliver fell in love with another little pup at the shelter, who he took in and gave her the name of Jinx. The trio are almost inseparable.
IS THE CHARACTER IN A GANG/LAW ENFORCEMENT AGENCY/CITIZEN: Citizen
STATE YOUR INDUSTRY AND OCCUPATION:
Oliver Hart leads two lives with two different occupations. Firstly, he has received a full scholarship as a full time student at the university of Hawaii, Oahu campus, where he is currently in his first year of his LLB degree (having finished his initial degree the previous year), and is partaking in electives such as psychology, sociology, and also attends courses based on forensic science. While this seems to present a career-hungry mind, there is another side to this young man that few may come to realize upon meeting him. Beneath the guise of Razor, his stage persona, Oliver Hart is part of a band called The Shelter Pups. The band was initially forged as a way to raise funding for the Hawaiian pet shelters that housed numerous animals that came from abusive homes, or lack thereof; they would perform shows that promoted the shelters and donated all money raised to the animals' food, accessories, and shelter. However, after the few months that the band worked together, they seemed eager to push themselves forward and enter into the music scene, where they would perform at, not only the little shows put on as fundraising, but on a larger scale. Albeit, a portion of all money earned still goes to the shelter at which Oliver remains a "paw aid".
PERSONALITY:
Oliver wears a complex myriad of masks, each concealing the true personality hidden beneath the guise of a handsome, charming young man. Yet when it boils down to the man behind the mask, Oliver is often one of the most misunderstood personalities one may ever come across. Many would suggest that he is a walking contradiction filled with an intensity like no other displayed both in the lecture halls and on the stage. Both guises that this young man is subjected to bear a fierce independence and determination, looking to accomplish anything and everything that he sets his mind to. He also enjoys some time on his own, sometimes shying away from large crowds of people so that he can simply enjoy his own company for a change; this has led to him evidently staying on his own away from the dorm rooms at the university and away from his parents and family. It is here that he is able to think without being nagged, and it is here that the creativity of his imagination stirs. The only beings he can tolerate being around for long periods of time are animals, whether they be horses and donkeys or dogs and cats, Oliver shares a love for all animals, showing a particularly strong bond with the adopted mongrels: Chase and Jinx
The personality that most associate Oliver Hart with is the charming young law student who bears a brilliance rarely seen in youthful men his age. He possesses a thirst for knowledge that few share, and an unnerving sense of curiosity that is never quite satisfied, causing him to constantly question those around him as well as their intentions. Who, what, where, and how? These are the multiple aspects that he often looks to inspect. Combined with his insatiable hunger to be the best of the best, and to be at the seat of power at the end of the day, the concept of becoming a law shark could never have suited someone so well. His determination to reach the ultimate success has caused him to work exceptionally hard to achieve what he wants, gaining a control on his life as well as his destiny. Without this sense of control, the young man becomes torn asunder and shattered; insecurity sets in and the intelligent mind loses its sense of awareness, which evidently spells disaster for Oliver Hart. Yet, it is not so easy to waver this bubble of control that Oliver has set around himself; he guards it well with walls built of flexibility, which permits him to re-survey a situation before taking a necessary different approach, in other words, causing him to become adaptable and versatile, finding a positive in every negative. This is not to be taken as optimism but more as a form of self-preservation, as an attempt to hold onto his sanity.
By nature, Oliver is a fierce competitor making his future career in law a wise one for this young man; he will argue a point using justifiable facts until he is named the victor; this is not only seen in his studies and mock trials but also in day to day basis when locked in a heated debate with a friend or passing acquaintance. Very few are able to sway his mind from where his opinions lie, simply because he knows his are backed by logical explanations and hard evidence instead of the fairy tale wishes that most young adults still possess. He is a realist, through and through. With his love of "the game" comes an uncanny ability to mix and manipulate words to deceive the untrained mind; with this advantage he is able to regain control over a chaotic situation, swinging it into his favour so that he may continue as planned, or quickly formulating a plan that better aids his cause. He is considerably weary of strangers, and does not offer his trust to easily to people he just meets; the person needs to gain his trust over months and years, often having to undergo subtle tests that prove the loyalty of the person. And once the good deeds have been achieved, then Oliver will undoubtedly show the victor the love, appreciation, and loyalty he believes they deserve. With that excellent mind coming into play, Oliver easily recalls each good deed done and also all those who harmed him in some way or another. This brings about his affinity to hold grudges for decades; he does not easily let things go, and will not simply sit then when faced with a person who has wronged him.
But what drove this small time boy into a large upscale area that demonstrated a diversity of people? It could be said that Oliver's urge to leave home was initiated by the dreams and goals he had set out for himself, to be one of those men dressed in a tailored suit walking down the corridor ordering people about, taking a stand in the court room and successfully defending a client that would ensure a hefty sum of money. It is unknown where this craving for wealth stems from, all that Oliver knows is that he needs to work hard to earn his pretty penny. With that being said, Oliver has developed a strong sense of wisdom when it comes to money and making decisions that may impact the outcome of his income. This has seen him take part in buying shares in companies, and trading on the stock exchange. A simple hobby to keep that alert mind of his in check.
When Razor is unleashed upon the night, the concept of the knowledge hungry power-driven enthusiast is dulled and overpowered by the on-stage persona that the stage performer possesses. The same intensity, determination, and ambition is demonstrated although in a different light; here Razor seeks to enthral all with the melodies strung from his guitar. His pride is in his performance, causing him to throw most of his energy into the entertainment of the crowd, whether it be with coy smiles or high jumps in the air. Here, the young man maintains the mysterious flair about him, which of course, drives many of his "fans" absolutely crazy for all want to uncover the secret that is Razor. People seem to be magnetically drawn to this persona, enjoying the air of mystery and secretiveness that surrounds him, giggling at the playful winks and dashing smiles. When he is beneath the guise of "Razor" a sense of freedom is achieved for he no longer has to push himself to his limits to achieve academic greatness; while he still maintains a constant pressure on himself to perform to his best ability, it is not as severe as that experienced when he is on campus.
Razor is a witty, fast-tongued, smooth talker, using his intelligence and way with words to easily manipulate any and all who would dare to listen. Many girls who have been on the receiving end of Razor's affection will often tell tales of the romantic gestures he performs such as a little serenade in the work place, or a rose left in the locker. When he is Razor, Oliver is the true ladies' man, yet still remains curt and like a gentleman, preferring to play a cat and mouse game before finally unwrapping his present.
Beneath all of the control, ambition, and pride, lies something deeper and closer to the heart. While Oliver may often appear to be detached emotionally and aloof, a closer look on the inside will reveal that the young man suffers the repression of intense emotions, both positive and negative. It seems like a constant saga raging within his mind, a battle between jealousy and loyalty, resentment and the need for a feeling of happiness. He is constantly trying to understand and wrap his head around the emotions that flood his system, searching for a deeper purpose in life. With that being said, Oliver is also extremely intuitive, not in a psychic sense, but rather he is more intuitive into the human mind, presenting with an uncanny understanding of the mystery and power of the human mind. Yet, he is not all seriousness and control-dependent, Oliver also enjoys some sense of fun and demonstrates a slightly playful attitude towards women, especially those that he holds a close friendship to or simply likes, enhancing the alluring mystery that clouds his aura.
CHARACTER IMAGE(S):
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
To match the dazzling, charming exterior, Oliver Hart has a face to match; well groomed with a friendly, warm smile and approachable features. He has pale blue-green eyes that often appear to glint like silver when exposed to certain lights; this combined with the well-conditioned dark brown hair seems to spell an almost instant recipe for a young man considered to be handsome in most girls' eyes. His hear ranges from styles depending on the occasion, ranging from a neatly combed back slick to something more bed-head, wild, and messy. He bears strong features, including a prominent jaw line often shadowed by a slight stubble. His teeth are a dazzling white, adding to the assumptions that he takes good care of himself, taking pride in his outwardly appearance and grooming. People base their opinions on first impressions, don't they?
Oliver is not the buffest guy on campus, nor is he the skinniest. He fits comfortably in a decent class of physique with just the right amount of toned muscles where needed. He is of an average height, borderline branching off into the "tall" category.
Like most "rock stars" of the age, Oliver bears a few tattoos. While his entire body is not covered in them, he bears a few special images inked permanently onto his body. His body is his journal, and so, the canvas of his skin should be reserved for only special memories and meaningful depictions. This is mainly evident on his arm. The portrait of a man in a service uniform is actually his grandfather from WWII, and acts as an ode to his grandmother, both of which are deceased yet the times he spent with them are more than special. Sometimes, he feels as though he were closer to them for they were always pushing him forward to achieve greatness, to step away from the light of religion and to follow his heart and his mind, instead of blindly stepping into the path of another. They always said he was destined for greatness and success. In addition to the antique style portrait, Oliver also bears the number "39" imprinted onto his body. This, he believes, is his lucky number. Another tattoo that bears a sentimental value to it is the name "Rocco" tattooed on his left shoulder. Rocco was the pet nickname bestowed upon his twin brother who was unfortunate enough to die at an early age. It is a tribute to his brother who was the polar opposite of Oliver and actually helped him to move away from the comforts of his shell. In addition to this, Oliver also has a set of antlers on his feet. "They're a reminder that every year I will shed in one way or another - always ready for new growth, shed, growth. I show my connection to the natural world, unnaturally inked. I thrive off contradiction, enabling me to not take myself too seriously."
UNIQUE SKILLS AND ABILITIES:
Oliver has been blessed with a photographic memory, which has aided in the success of his brilliance throughout his years beneath an academic status. He is able to read through a text book and recall each detail inked upon the page; however, unlike some who just have the capacity of an excellent memory, Oliver is able to apply what he has read almost immediately into a real-life scenario. In addition to this, Oliver is oddly creative and imaginative, possessing an artistic flair that few truly know about; the only cultural activities they may associate him with is the melodies strummed from his guitars and his attractive singing voice. Yet, he is quite brilliant when it comes to painting, and often does commission work for the stray animals at the local shelter, painting their portraits to be sold at the local fund raising flea market in an attempt to raise some funds for those struggling animals.
He is also a surprisingly experienced horseback rider and often trains and exercises many of the abandoned and rescued horses brought to the shelter.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
+ He is a passionate soul that is not afraid to take risks in order to help. This is mainly demonstrated in his community service charity work with the animal shelter he volunteers at.
+ He is an extremely observant individual, which is, perhaps, one of the key attributes that has lead to his success academically and socially.
+ He is a resourceful individual with a dynamic personality.
+ He is extremely skilled when it comes to the art of music, with his instrument of preference being the guitar. He also presents with an unusual singing voice.
- He is very suspicious, and not just of people that he does not know. Even those closest to him are always kept at an arm's length away.
- He has an extreme fear of failure, which often causes him to be uptight and stressed in most situations. This is often concealed so that no one else knows about it other than himself.
- Seeing animals in pain and misery sets his heart back, and he will often go out of his way to try and ease their pain in any way possible. This often leads to him bringing in multiple strays during a rainy night.
- He can be possessive sometimes; when he fixes his eye on something, he must have it and it must be his alone.
WEAPONS:
As a law student and guitarist, Oliver Hart has little need for those heavy duty weapons that one may see a police officer carrying. The only thing that he carries on his person is a compact Swiss Army knife which was a gift from his sister, Demetria, for his 21st birthday. The knife is a beautiful piece with his name engraved on it.
BACKGROUND HISTORY:
So, where do I begin with my little tragic tale of life? I have no idea where to truthfully begin, because, well, I don't do these types of things. And the only reason why I'm attempt something like this is because so many people have said they have found inner peace by simply writing, and I know there are a lot of things that I have buried deep, too deep to allow it to resurface. But hopefully, by experiencing it all again, it will make me a stronger man and aid in my attempts to achieve greatness.
Okay, so let's start from the beginning. That always seems like a good place.
So, I was born into a family of six immediate relatives. I had a mother, and a father, and two older sisters, and a twin brother. Quite large, I know, but compared to some of the other families that lived around our "encampment", we were one of the smallest. Now, you may be wondering why I chose to write the word encampment in inverted commas. Well, let me explain a bit more on this issue. We did not have the luxuries of the wealthy families from the big cities; my parents believed hoarding money was the work of the Devil. They saw unnecessary material goods as a sin against their heavenly father. They shied away from all conventional forms of technology, refusing to embrace the advancement of technology to help ease the way of human life. We did not have electricity like most people my age would have enjoyed in their younger years, and our plumbing was something more archaic. Most would have confused us with the Amish way of life, yet, we were slightly different in a sense. We weren't completely to that point, but were nearing it with each year that passed, and each year that our encampment elder stood in charge of everyone, preaching his holy words upon each day break and every sunset. We wore only clothes that were made by "our people" and attended a home school where we were taught little about normal subjects like English and Maths, but more about God and how he influenced man throughout the entire creation of life. But, I was curious... Curious about a life outside of this compound... Curious about what happened when you connected A and B together. I, of course, didn't voice this curiosity aloud, for I knew I would be punished one way or another - accused a sinner and taken to be cleansed. I had heard tales of the holy ritual of cleansing, where the body is stripped of all material and bathed in a pool of sacred water, similar to a baptism yet more extreme. The counsellors attempted to beat the evil from you and rip it from the heart. Some, who were stronger than others, made it, and others died. It's as simple as that. To them, God either wanted you to live, or he wanted to reclaim your spirit in Heaven. There was no middle ground. Bear this in mind as I continue. The only person I confided in about my little hypothesis was my brother, who agreed whole heartedly.
Now this intrigue began when I was about seven years old, when the world was only starting to make sense; my brother seemed way ahead of me because my parents had a hard time controlling him. They seemed to say that we were polar opposites; that I was the embodiment of Our Lord and Saviour, whereas my brother was the serpent that tempted Adam and Eve in the gardens of Eden. He was rebellious, taking after my sister Demetria who had already put her foot down at this stage. He looked to her as his role model, and it only caused things to go downhill from there.
Raymond "Rocco" Hart was a free spirit with an intelligent mind like my own, but he lacked self-control. This is where we differed. While he openly expressed his feeling of being incomplete, of knowing that there was a world beyond our encampment, I was able to suppress this wonder and intrigue. I was able to conceal the workings of my mind with secrets and a lack of verbal communication. He was bold. I was shy. When you live in a small village styled compound like we did, people begin to talk. Gossip infects each household and community building like a plague sent from God to devour all that humans need to thrive off of. Whispers of the troubled Hart kid drifted upon the air, like a bad seed seeking its place to impregnate the earth. My parents felt ashamed of little Rocco and made multiple futile attempts to conceal him from the spotlight of the crowd. He was their child at the end of the day, and no matter how difficult a child may be, he is still blood at the end of the day and some sense of unconditional love that only a mother and father could experience sweltered within their hearts. I felt sorry for my parents, because they did truly care about his well being, and often I would try to tell Rocco to keep his thoughts to himself, contain the excitement of all the possibilities. Cease in his dreams. But, he was not to be silenced, nor was he the personality to accept defeat. He continued to act that way for the next few years; his intelligence expanding as he found ways to sneak in bits and pieces from the outside world. And perhaps the true day that impacted his life was the day when we were to come across a couple who had lost their way along the roads that led to our little slice of home grown paradise. We were twelve when it all happened, when we first laid eyes on a true automobile - something we had only really seen in the magazines and books that Rocco would sneak into our rooms at night. It was nothing like we had ever seen before. Completely enthralled, our like-mindedness urged us forward to investigate. We held no hesitation when crossing our fences and running towards the car like small children driven on by a sugar high. Our amazement was allowed to grow the moment a fancily dressed man poked his head from inside the vehicle.
"Do you kids know where we are? Seem to have lost our way." His accent was so pronounced, so smooth against the ear. It was like the silken thread that we used only on our formal garments that we wore to church every Sunday. His smile was dazzling. He seemed friendly enough, yet, being the less talkative soul, I instantly shied away. Rocco, on the other hand, had no trouble addressing this situation. He stepped closer to the window so he could get a better look inside.
"Why, you're a mighty way away from the city, mister." He said with that innocent purr to his voice; the country twang was heavy and thick, distorting his words unlike the clear bell-like syllables that rang from the man's lips. "You need to be heading over there." Rocco turned to point in the direction of the Las Angeles, the city of angels. We could just see the buildings on the horizon. "You just double back a few paces and then take a right, left, right, and another right and you should be along the proper road." When my brother had said this, all I could do was look up at him in awe. How had he known so much about all of this? There was definitely something he wasn't telling me at that point, and I'd be damned if I was to take a seat back while he siphoned this knowledge.
The man thanked us, and gave my brother a dollar bill. He was so excited. "Look Oli, look!!!! Our first dollar. Isn't she a beaut?" He held the green paper up to the sun, gazing at it as if he were a man in love with a pretty woman.
"I dun see nothing." I said, kicking the dirt about with the toe of my leather sandal. "That's the stuff we're supposed ta stay away from."
"No, Oliver, no. It isn't. One day, this place will be nothing ... these people will be nothing. All because they want nothing to do with this." He jabbed at the note. "Don't you see, there's a world out there beyond what you an me can comprehend. A world that is waiting for the Hart brothers to storm the gates." I had never heard such madness before, and yet, the more he spoke about what this little dollar bill could do, the more I found myself believing in it all, believing in the dream that had lodged itself in the back of my mind for so many years. And within that, the seed was planted, and I found myself dreaming of all the possibilities that life held for us beyond the borders of our community. I looked up to my brother once again, seeing the broad grin on his face as his gaze was consumed by the dollar bill. "I'll tell you what, brother. This will be the reminder that we need whenever we feel defeated." His fingers started to tear at the bill, easily ripping the paper into two equal halves. "One for you and one for me. They are twins that make a whole. That way, we'll never forget..." He handed me one of the halves, and I took it without a single word said.
I still have that bill to this very day. It sits within my wallet, shrivelled and fragile with age. But it is a reminder of who I am and the greatness I am looking to achieve, the potential I have yet to unlock. It serves as a reminder of everything that my brother was, and the life that we were supposed to share as brothers born on the same day.
So I guess this is where I begin to shed some light on my brother's death. I mean, if you think about all the injustice in the world combined with his outspoken nature, it could only be assumed that his time would be cut short. It seemed that we had forgotten about Rocco's flamboyant, outspoken nature; we had gotten used to the continuous dreaming and rants he would burst out into. Ever since our encounter with the outside world, his ambitions only grew tenfold, and then started to taint my own mind. With that half a dollar bill sitting beneath my pillow I felt as though I could do anything in life. Yet still, I remained the secretive one, while Rocco flaunted his aspirations to the compound. He flashed his dollar bill about and started to preach his dreams to the others, and my, did he have a way with words... Pretty soon more than a few people had started to chatter, excited whispers swept over the compound about the prospects that lay ahead if we were to move into a world that bore some traits of the modern society we were taught to shun. It was amazing how a boy of fourteen years old could have such an impact. Of course he was met with the scowls and glares from the more conservative, those who had their heads shoved too far in their arses to see change was near. But, what could you do? Rocco was introducing an idea that we had all learned to distrust. Quite naturally, his enthusiasm recognised by the compound Elder and his counsellors, and obviously they were not pleased at all at the prospect he presented.
I can honestly still remember everything as if it happened yesterday. Our family was called out to attend a local gathering in our town square. Rocco was pulled aside and stripped naked in front of the others. I can still see the tears well up within my mother's and sisters' eyes. The stoic features of my father as he watched his son be ridiculed in front of the dozens of faces. He held a protective hand on my shoulder. Rocco had started his protest, he had started to laugh and mock the Order. He received a hard smack across the mouth for his insolent behaviour.
"This boy is the Devil come to test us. He has come as the serpent came to tempt Eve to her damnation. He is the poison that must be sucked out of our community so that we may enter into Heaven, and be blessed with eternal life. He must be purged." The Elder's voice loomed over the silence; each word reverberating across the audience before a roar of applause erupted from the crowd. My mother began to sob. Ruby, my other sister, held the weeping woman in her arms, trying to comfort her. I remember Demetria looking on with that cold look in her eye. She had not even a tear to shed. It was as if anger had consumed her. I bit my lip. I had heard of the purging, I had heard of the terrors that it often led to. "This heretic's life must be put to the test; if he should emerge from his tainted state, then he has been successfully cleansed. Given another opportunity to walk among us. God's People." A black hood was pulled over Rocco's head. His naked body was covered with a black ceremonial robe that had covered many dead men's bodies when they had been taken away. And as they passed us, I could hear the rattle of Rocco's breath. He fought to stand, to address me with sightless eyes.
"Do not fear brother. They may take my life, but my spirit still lingers. You must rid yourself of these hypocrites, and you must carry on our dream." He had whispered to me. His voice was so low that I am sure no one else had heard him. He was pulled away, yanked toward the doors toward the building where the cleansing would commence. No one really knew what the cleansing entailed, and those that had made it out alive seemed petrified to repeat their tales. Only that some were missing their eyes, and others their tongues. My father tried to reason with the Elder as they took Rocco along, but he was only pushed aside and lost in the crowd. Once secured inside, the Elder re-emerged, this time with eyes set upon me...
"This child shares the same blood as the tainted. He is a twin. He should be tested to determine the purity of his heart." Immediately my blood went cold. I took a step back, shaking my head. The words failed to slip from my lips. I hid behind my sisters, putting my hand defensively into Demetria's and Ruby's. I could not believe I was a boy of sixteen and seeking comfort with my sisters.
"No!" My mother's broken voice stammered through the hushed silence that had now fallen over the gathering. "Oliver is a good boy. He is the good one. Father, he will prove the purity of his heart. Just do not take him from me."
"And how can you be so sure that he is not the Devil's child?" The Elder's voice roared. Whispers started to chatter amongst the crowd.
"Because... Because he will take the path of the Chosen. He will walk the eternal path of the Father. He will take his vows to our church and will serve until his time was done."
I knew my mother's words were meant to save me, but I could not help but feel my heart sink as they left her lips. While she had successfully granted me life, she had given me straight to the Order as their servant until the time would come when I would replace one of their seats. Needless to say, we did not hear of Rocco after the end of that day, and I swear as I lay down to sleep that night, I could hear blood curdling screams of agony upon the tail of the wind.
Basically, after that, the next few months were a numbed blur. I was missing my brother and my best friend. Sure, my sisters were great with their comforts, but they were not Rocco. Him and I had a special bond, one that I could not replace; I felt empty, as if there was something missing in my life. I often got home from the spiritual training exhausted and with no appetite. I shrunk in size until I was nothing but flesh and bones; and each night before I fell asleep I would look at that torn dollar bill, stroking it idly in my hand, wishing that he would come back to me. I had grown bitter and irritable. I was not myself, and my sisters noticed the change. Heck, I am pretty sure my mother and father knew too but they were still trying to find ways to deal with the loss of their son in their own manner. We, as a family, started to drift apart. It was only Ruby that held us together with her multiple attempts to make sure we spent some time in each other's company. It annoyed me quite frankly. How could we just up and forget about Rocco? How could we just pretend that everything was still alright? I remember one night, at the dinner table, we all sat in silence, slowly picking at our food.
"I'm going to bed." I had said in my same melancholic tone, but as I got up from the table, something in my sister snapped.
"That's enough! We're acting as though the world is going to end. Sure, we are all heart sore about the death of Rocco, but enough is enough. The only way we're going to find some sort of peace is if we share in each other's pain." Ruby had started. I was taken aback. It had been a long time since I had seen a fire burn quite so bright in her eyes. But at the time I was filled with anger and despair, a dangerous combination if you ask me.
"Pain? You want to talk about pain? You don't know anything about it. None of you do!" I shouted, flinging the napkin down onto the table so hard that it landed in the gravy with a plop. "Rocco was right. He was right about the whole thing. This place is going to pull us apart, and it's going to eat us whole. We're going to be left behind to die like the rest of these sad sons of bitches around us." My parents gasped at my used of language. My father had opened his mouth to retort but he hadn't the chance before I continued on my rant. "None of us stood up for him. None of us believed in his words. But I do. I believe there is something out there, and I know Rocco would want me to find it. I'm sick of this hell hole. I'm sick of playing a puppy dog to those big bullies that think they are some descendents of God. But they're wrong..." I started to cry. I sunk to the floor, sobbing like an infant whose pacifier had just fallen to the floor. I felt hands caress my back, but I shrugged them away, storming out and making a point to slam my door. If I could not escape this place physically, I would just end it all...
You should know, at the compound, we didn't have usual medicine like you "outsider" folk had, so I couldn't kill myself with a simple overdose. But, we did have sharp things. And lots of them. I was on the brink of committing suicide, of taking the coward's way out. I couldn't handle it anymore, the constant pressure, the constant feeling of incompletion. I wanted more than what this world offered, and if I couldn't escape, then I would not live. Blinded by my rage and melancholy, I was about to perform an unspeakable act, a sin that would have ensured my soul a one way ticket to the pits of Hell; I had the knife over my arm... but, before I could bring it down, my eyes caught a glimpse of the torn dollar bill... the item that had driven my brother mad. And yet, it did not push me over the edge but instead it quieted my urge to kill myself. I remembered the words that my brother had said to me before they took him away. I remembered the silent promise I had made that I would continue on until I found my way to the outside world. And it was this thought that my brother saved my life...
I set the knife down on the bedside table and looked blankly around. My body felt exhausted, as if it had been through a war on its own. It was then that my senses came back to me, that my ears were able to hear once again and my nose able to smell. I tasted the blood upon my tongue, obviously from the bitten lip that I must have unconsciously sunk my teeth into as I was held in my fit of conflicting emotions. By now, I could hear my parents and Demetria arguing, with Ruby trying to play the peace keeper as she always did. This place was tearing us apart. It was tearing away at our lives. So, without a single ounce of hesitation, I removed myself from my room and stumbled toward the living area on shaky legs.
"Rocco was right, you know." My voice was small, but enough to enchant a spell of silence about the hysterical atmosphere. My parents looked at me blankly. My father rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Not this again, Oliver..." He was about to start, but I took another step forward.
"I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want this lifestyle. I want to know what everyone else knows. I want to experience the life that normal people do. I am tired of being God's servant. I want something more, I need something more... I need to be the best in the world at something..." And there it was, I was beginning to sound like Rocco. That one moment of insanity had awakened that dormant imagination that I had suppressed all my life, to avoid the stares that Rocco got. "I want to go to school... proper school, like the other kids outside our home." I wanted to learn things, and I wanted to have that taste of knowledge that so many took advantage of.
It took some time to convince my parents, but soon enough Demetria was the one that strong armed them into agreeing to the terms. I was to attend school, a normal high school. The only problem was, was that we had to move. We had no money and no assets, first of all, and secondly, my parents refused to leave the compound, afraid of what lingered in the distance. But, I started school nonetheless - I walked for an hour each day until I could meet the local school bus that transported me to a public high school. My parents would often make up countless stories to appease the curious, suspicious minds of the neighbours and friends at the compound, since national education was frowned upon in our encampment. However, as the days passed by, more and more people became suspicious of my activities; I guess it showed in the way that I started to speak and the things I was able to do. Maths was like child's play. Reading was as easy as milking old Betsie. Soon enough, they caught us out on our little secret and we were forced to flee beneath the cover of the night to avoid be sent to the Cleanse like more poor, dear brother. I guess it took his death to give me courage to speak up for what I wanted, and it gave my parents the reasons they needed to leave.
We lived as refugees for a while, my father took odd manual labour jobs here and there until he earned enough to buy us a proper house. It wasn't much, but it was better than the shelter we had been shoved into. He was then recruited into another job that allowed me to attend a better school, in which I excelled so well that I was able to accept the position offered in the Hawaiian university. My father wasn't permitted to move with us - he had struck such a good deal with his latest employer that I didn't want to break his routine once again. In order to keep my father in the company, his employer ended up paying for everything, for my sisters' and I to relocate. He even paid for our accommodation for the first few months until I moved into the Dorm rooms and my sisters got onto their own two feet.
But what made me go into law? Well, I'm not entirely sure. I guess it was more the way I saw them speak on the television; the way they wore their suits and the way they were able to present an argument in the most sophisticated manner ever. They looked good. And it looked as though they had tons of the dollar bills. It was a dream my brother and I had shared. And it was going to come true for me.
I took on odd jobs in my early months of university; finding myself drawn to animal shelters and working as one of the handlers there. It was volunteer work, granted, but I was on a full scholarship so I didn't care - the only time that money ever bothered me was when my friends wanted to go out. I could never join because I didn't have the money; instead, I would sit in my room or on the veranda and strum idly at my guitar. That is until a group of guys heard me.... I recognized them from the animal shelters across the island and almost instantly we clicked. And that was basically the formation of the Shelter Pups... I won't go much into that, but basically we first played at functions to raise funds for the local animal shelters, only to find out that people enjoyed us, causing us to look for greater opportunities in the world of music and money making...
One more thing that I need to get off my chest, is my first experience of love.
I must say I was kind of unprepared for Cupid's arrow. But it struck me hard during the one event my band and I played at. She was gorgeous, a blonde haired angel with large doe-like brown eyes, and skin soft as silk. Her name was Emma. She was the first and best mistake I have ever made. She teased me with her lip bitten smiles while I was on stage, twirling her hair around her finger. She was far too perfect for me to even think of; however, my friends pushed me toward her, and soon enough I found myself dating one of the most attractive girls in my university. All the guys were jealous. It was a great feeling. I broke my virginity for her... for her promise of being together forever; yet, soon after I was reminded why many people referred to a woman's heart as being a fickle thing. For soon enough my angel flew away and into another's arms. We're in completely separate classes now, and I barely ever see her; but I am sure I have caught glimpses of her while on the stage... She was the one that stole my heat then broke it into a dozen pieces... I will never forgive her for that.
Alright, I think I must stop here for now. I can already hear Prof walking down the corridor.
So that was my sob story... and now it's time to see where this next journey will take me...
To match the dazzling, charming exterior, Oliver Hart has a face to match; well groomed with a friendly, warm smile and approachable features. He has pale blue-green eyes that often appear to glint like silver when exposed to certain lights; this combined with the well-conditioned dark brown hair seems to spell an almost instant recipe for a young man considered to be handsome in most girls' eyes. His hear ranges from styles depending on the occasion, ranging from a neatly combed back slick to something more bed-head, wild, and messy. He bears strong features, including a prominent jaw line often shadowed by a slight stubble. His teeth are a dazzling white, adding to the assumptions that he takes good care of himself, taking pride in his outwardly appearance and grooming. People base their opinions on first impressions, don't they?
Oliver is not the buffest guy on campus, nor is he the skinniest. He fits comfortably in a decent class of physique with just the right amount of toned muscles where needed. He is of an average height, borderline branching off into the "tall" category.
Like most "rock stars" of the age, Oliver bears a few tattoos. While his entire body is not covered in them, he bears a few special images inked permanently onto his body. His body is his journal, and so, the canvas of his skin should be reserved for only special memories and meaningful depictions. This is mainly evident on his arm. The portrait of a man in a service uniform is actually his grandfather from WWII, and acts as an ode to his grandmother, both of which are deceased yet the times he spent with them are more than special. Sometimes, he feels as though he were closer to them for they were always pushing him forward to achieve greatness, to step away from the light of religion and to follow his heart and his mind, instead of blindly stepping into the path of another. They always said he was destined for greatness and success. In addition to the antique style portrait, Oliver also bears the number "39" imprinted onto his body. This, he believes, is his lucky number. Another tattoo that bears a sentimental value to it is the name "Rocco" tattooed on his left shoulder. Rocco was the pet nickname bestowed upon his twin brother who was unfortunate enough to die at an early age. It is a tribute to his brother who was the polar opposite of Oliver and actually helped him to move away from the comforts of his shell. In addition to this, Oliver also has a set of antlers on his feet. "They're a reminder that every year I will shed in one way or another - always ready for new growth, shed, growth. I show my connection to the natural world, unnaturally inked. I thrive off contradiction, enabling me to not take myself too seriously."
UNIQUE SKILLS AND ABILITIES:
Oliver has been blessed with a photographic memory, which has aided in the success of his brilliance throughout his years beneath an academic status. He is able to read through a text book and recall each detail inked upon the page; however, unlike some who just have the capacity of an excellent memory, Oliver is able to apply what he has read almost immediately into a real-life scenario. In addition to this, Oliver is oddly creative and imaginative, possessing an artistic flair that few truly know about; the only cultural activities they may associate him with is the melodies strummed from his guitars and his attractive singing voice. Yet, he is quite brilliant when it comes to painting, and often does commission work for the stray animals at the local shelter, painting their portraits to be sold at the local fund raising flea market in an attempt to raise some funds for those struggling animals.
He is also a surprisingly experienced horseback rider and often trains and exercises many of the abandoned and rescued horses brought to the shelter.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
+ He is a passionate soul that is not afraid to take risks in order to help. This is mainly demonstrated in his community service charity work with the animal shelter he volunteers at.
+ He is an extremely observant individual, which is, perhaps, one of the key attributes that has lead to his success academically and socially.
+ He is a resourceful individual with a dynamic personality.
+ He is extremely skilled when it comes to the art of music, with his instrument of preference being the guitar. He also presents with an unusual singing voice.
- He is very suspicious, and not just of people that he does not know. Even those closest to him are always kept at an arm's length away.
- He has an extreme fear of failure, which often causes him to be uptight and stressed in most situations. This is often concealed so that no one else knows about it other than himself.
- Seeing animals in pain and misery sets his heart back, and he will often go out of his way to try and ease their pain in any way possible. This often leads to him bringing in multiple strays during a rainy night.
- He can be possessive sometimes; when he fixes his eye on something, he must have it and it must be his alone.
WEAPONS:
As a law student and guitarist, Oliver Hart has little need for those heavy duty weapons that one may see a police officer carrying. The only thing that he carries on his person is a compact Swiss Army knife which was a gift from his sister, Demetria, for his 21st birthday. The knife is a beautiful piece with his name engraved on it.
BACKGROUND HISTORY:
So, where do I begin with my little tragic tale of life? I have no idea where to truthfully begin, because, well, I don't do these types of things. And the only reason why I'm attempt something like this is because so many people have said they have found inner peace by simply writing, and I know there are a lot of things that I have buried deep, too deep to allow it to resurface. But hopefully, by experiencing it all again, it will make me a stronger man and aid in my attempts to achieve greatness.
Okay, so let's start from the beginning. That always seems like a good place.
So, I was born into a family of six immediate relatives. I had a mother, and a father, and two older sisters, and a twin brother. Quite large, I know, but compared to some of the other families that lived around our "encampment", we were one of the smallest. Now, you may be wondering why I chose to write the word encampment in inverted commas. Well, let me explain a bit more on this issue. We did not have the luxuries of the wealthy families from the big cities; my parents believed hoarding money was the work of the Devil. They saw unnecessary material goods as a sin against their heavenly father. They shied away from all conventional forms of technology, refusing to embrace the advancement of technology to help ease the way of human life. We did not have electricity like most people my age would have enjoyed in their younger years, and our plumbing was something more archaic. Most would have confused us with the Amish way of life, yet, we were slightly different in a sense. We weren't completely to that point, but were nearing it with each year that passed, and each year that our encampment elder stood in charge of everyone, preaching his holy words upon each day break and every sunset. We wore only clothes that were made by "our people" and attended a home school where we were taught little about normal subjects like English and Maths, but more about God and how he influenced man throughout the entire creation of life. But, I was curious... Curious about a life outside of this compound... Curious about what happened when you connected A and B together. I, of course, didn't voice this curiosity aloud, for I knew I would be punished one way or another - accused a sinner and taken to be cleansed. I had heard tales of the holy ritual of cleansing, where the body is stripped of all material and bathed in a pool of sacred water, similar to a baptism yet more extreme. The counsellors attempted to beat the evil from you and rip it from the heart. Some, who were stronger than others, made it, and others died. It's as simple as that. To them, God either wanted you to live, or he wanted to reclaim your spirit in Heaven. There was no middle ground. Bear this in mind as I continue. The only person I confided in about my little hypothesis was my brother, who agreed whole heartedly.
Now this intrigue began when I was about seven years old, when the world was only starting to make sense; my brother seemed way ahead of me because my parents had a hard time controlling him. They seemed to say that we were polar opposites; that I was the embodiment of Our Lord and Saviour, whereas my brother was the serpent that tempted Adam and Eve in the gardens of Eden. He was rebellious, taking after my sister Demetria who had already put her foot down at this stage. He looked to her as his role model, and it only caused things to go downhill from there.
Raymond "Rocco" Hart was a free spirit with an intelligent mind like my own, but he lacked self-control. This is where we differed. While he openly expressed his feeling of being incomplete, of knowing that there was a world beyond our encampment, I was able to suppress this wonder and intrigue. I was able to conceal the workings of my mind with secrets and a lack of verbal communication. He was bold. I was shy. When you live in a small village styled compound like we did, people begin to talk. Gossip infects each household and community building like a plague sent from God to devour all that humans need to thrive off of. Whispers of the troubled Hart kid drifted upon the air, like a bad seed seeking its place to impregnate the earth. My parents felt ashamed of little Rocco and made multiple futile attempts to conceal him from the spotlight of the crowd. He was their child at the end of the day, and no matter how difficult a child may be, he is still blood at the end of the day and some sense of unconditional love that only a mother and father could experience sweltered within their hearts. I felt sorry for my parents, because they did truly care about his well being, and often I would try to tell Rocco to keep his thoughts to himself, contain the excitement of all the possibilities. Cease in his dreams. But, he was not to be silenced, nor was he the personality to accept defeat. He continued to act that way for the next few years; his intelligence expanding as he found ways to sneak in bits and pieces from the outside world. And perhaps the true day that impacted his life was the day when we were to come across a couple who had lost their way along the roads that led to our little slice of home grown paradise. We were twelve when it all happened, when we first laid eyes on a true automobile - something we had only really seen in the magazines and books that Rocco would sneak into our rooms at night. It was nothing like we had ever seen before. Completely enthralled, our like-mindedness urged us forward to investigate. We held no hesitation when crossing our fences and running towards the car like small children driven on by a sugar high. Our amazement was allowed to grow the moment a fancily dressed man poked his head from inside the vehicle.
"Do you kids know where we are? Seem to have lost our way." His accent was so pronounced, so smooth against the ear. It was like the silken thread that we used only on our formal garments that we wore to church every Sunday. His smile was dazzling. He seemed friendly enough, yet, being the less talkative soul, I instantly shied away. Rocco, on the other hand, had no trouble addressing this situation. He stepped closer to the window so he could get a better look inside.
"Why, you're a mighty way away from the city, mister." He said with that innocent purr to his voice; the country twang was heavy and thick, distorting his words unlike the clear bell-like syllables that rang from the man's lips. "You need to be heading over there." Rocco turned to point in the direction of the Las Angeles, the city of angels. We could just see the buildings on the horizon. "You just double back a few paces and then take a right, left, right, and another right and you should be along the proper road." When my brother had said this, all I could do was look up at him in awe. How had he known so much about all of this? There was definitely something he wasn't telling me at that point, and I'd be damned if I was to take a seat back while he siphoned this knowledge.
The man thanked us, and gave my brother a dollar bill. He was so excited. "Look Oli, look!!!! Our first dollar. Isn't she a beaut?" He held the green paper up to the sun, gazing at it as if he were a man in love with a pretty woman.
"I dun see nothing." I said, kicking the dirt about with the toe of my leather sandal. "That's the stuff we're supposed ta stay away from."
"No, Oliver, no. It isn't. One day, this place will be nothing ... these people will be nothing. All because they want nothing to do with this." He jabbed at the note. "Don't you see, there's a world out there beyond what you an me can comprehend. A world that is waiting for the Hart brothers to storm the gates." I had never heard such madness before, and yet, the more he spoke about what this little dollar bill could do, the more I found myself believing in it all, believing in the dream that had lodged itself in the back of my mind for so many years. And within that, the seed was planted, and I found myself dreaming of all the possibilities that life held for us beyond the borders of our community. I looked up to my brother once again, seeing the broad grin on his face as his gaze was consumed by the dollar bill. "I'll tell you what, brother. This will be the reminder that we need whenever we feel defeated." His fingers started to tear at the bill, easily ripping the paper into two equal halves. "One for you and one for me. They are twins that make a whole. That way, we'll never forget..." He handed me one of the halves, and I took it without a single word said.
I still have that bill to this very day. It sits within my wallet, shrivelled and fragile with age. But it is a reminder of who I am and the greatness I am looking to achieve, the potential I have yet to unlock. It serves as a reminder of everything that my brother was, and the life that we were supposed to share as brothers born on the same day.
So I guess this is where I begin to shed some light on my brother's death. I mean, if you think about all the injustice in the world combined with his outspoken nature, it could only be assumed that his time would be cut short. It seemed that we had forgotten about Rocco's flamboyant, outspoken nature; we had gotten used to the continuous dreaming and rants he would burst out into. Ever since our encounter with the outside world, his ambitions only grew tenfold, and then started to taint my own mind. With that half a dollar bill sitting beneath my pillow I felt as though I could do anything in life. Yet still, I remained the secretive one, while Rocco flaunted his aspirations to the compound. He flashed his dollar bill about and started to preach his dreams to the others, and my, did he have a way with words... Pretty soon more than a few people had started to chatter, excited whispers swept over the compound about the prospects that lay ahead if we were to move into a world that bore some traits of the modern society we were taught to shun. It was amazing how a boy of fourteen years old could have such an impact. Of course he was met with the scowls and glares from the more conservative, those who had their heads shoved too far in their arses to see change was near. But, what could you do? Rocco was introducing an idea that we had all learned to distrust. Quite naturally, his enthusiasm recognised by the compound Elder and his counsellors, and obviously they were not pleased at all at the prospect he presented.
I can honestly still remember everything as if it happened yesterday. Our family was called out to attend a local gathering in our town square. Rocco was pulled aside and stripped naked in front of the others. I can still see the tears well up within my mother's and sisters' eyes. The stoic features of my father as he watched his son be ridiculed in front of the dozens of faces. He held a protective hand on my shoulder. Rocco had started his protest, he had started to laugh and mock the Order. He received a hard smack across the mouth for his insolent behaviour.
"This boy is the Devil come to test us. He has come as the serpent came to tempt Eve to her damnation. He is the poison that must be sucked out of our community so that we may enter into Heaven, and be blessed with eternal life. He must be purged." The Elder's voice loomed over the silence; each word reverberating across the audience before a roar of applause erupted from the crowd. My mother began to sob. Ruby, my other sister, held the weeping woman in her arms, trying to comfort her. I remember Demetria looking on with that cold look in her eye. She had not even a tear to shed. It was as if anger had consumed her. I bit my lip. I had heard of the purging, I had heard of the terrors that it often led to. "This heretic's life must be put to the test; if he should emerge from his tainted state, then he has been successfully cleansed. Given another opportunity to walk among us. God's People." A black hood was pulled over Rocco's head. His naked body was covered with a black ceremonial robe that had covered many dead men's bodies when they had been taken away. And as they passed us, I could hear the rattle of Rocco's breath. He fought to stand, to address me with sightless eyes.
"Do not fear brother. They may take my life, but my spirit still lingers. You must rid yourself of these hypocrites, and you must carry on our dream." He had whispered to me. His voice was so low that I am sure no one else had heard him. He was pulled away, yanked toward the doors toward the building where the cleansing would commence. No one really knew what the cleansing entailed, and those that had made it out alive seemed petrified to repeat their tales. Only that some were missing their eyes, and others their tongues. My father tried to reason with the Elder as they took Rocco along, but he was only pushed aside and lost in the crowd. Once secured inside, the Elder re-emerged, this time with eyes set upon me...
"This child shares the same blood as the tainted. He is a twin. He should be tested to determine the purity of his heart." Immediately my blood went cold. I took a step back, shaking my head. The words failed to slip from my lips. I hid behind my sisters, putting my hand defensively into Demetria's and Ruby's. I could not believe I was a boy of sixteen and seeking comfort with my sisters.
"No!" My mother's broken voice stammered through the hushed silence that had now fallen over the gathering. "Oliver is a good boy. He is the good one. Father, he will prove the purity of his heart. Just do not take him from me."
"And how can you be so sure that he is not the Devil's child?" The Elder's voice roared. Whispers started to chatter amongst the crowd.
"Because... Because he will take the path of the Chosen. He will walk the eternal path of the Father. He will take his vows to our church and will serve until his time was done."
I knew my mother's words were meant to save me, but I could not help but feel my heart sink as they left her lips. While she had successfully granted me life, she had given me straight to the Order as their servant until the time would come when I would replace one of their seats. Needless to say, we did not hear of Rocco after the end of that day, and I swear as I lay down to sleep that night, I could hear blood curdling screams of agony upon the tail of the wind.
Basically, after that, the next few months were a numbed blur. I was missing my brother and my best friend. Sure, my sisters were great with their comforts, but they were not Rocco. Him and I had a special bond, one that I could not replace; I felt empty, as if there was something missing in my life. I often got home from the spiritual training exhausted and with no appetite. I shrunk in size until I was nothing but flesh and bones; and each night before I fell asleep I would look at that torn dollar bill, stroking it idly in my hand, wishing that he would come back to me. I had grown bitter and irritable. I was not myself, and my sisters noticed the change. Heck, I am pretty sure my mother and father knew too but they were still trying to find ways to deal with the loss of their son in their own manner. We, as a family, started to drift apart. It was only Ruby that held us together with her multiple attempts to make sure we spent some time in each other's company. It annoyed me quite frankly. How could we just up and forget about Rocco? How could we just pretend that everything was still alright? I remember one night, at the dinner table, we all sat in silence, slowly picking at our food.
"I'm going to bed." I had said in my same melancholic tone, but as I got up from the table, something in my sister snapped.
"That's enough! We're acting as though the world is going to end. Sure, we are all heart sore about the death of Rocco, but enough is enough. The only way we're going to find some sort of peace is if we share in each other's pain." Ruby had started. I was taken aback. It had been a long time since I had seen a fire burn quite so bright in her eyes. But at the time I was filled with anger and despair, a dangerous combination if you ask me.
"Pain? You want to talk about pain? You don't know anything about it. None of you do!" I shouted, flinging the napkin down onto the table so hard that it landed in the gravy with a plop. "Rocco was right. He was right about the whole thing. This place is going to pull us apart, and it's going to eat us whole. We're going to be left behind to die like the rest of these sad sons of bitches around us." My parents gasped at my used of language. My father had opened his mouth to retort but he hadn't the chance before I continued on my rant. "None of us stood up for him. None of us believed in his words. But I do. I believe there is something out there, and I know Rocco would want me to find it. I'm sick of this hell hole. I'm sick of playing a puppy dog to those big bullies that think they are some descendents of God. But they're wrong..." I started to cry. I sunk to the floor, sobbing like an infant whose pacifier had just fallen to the floor. I felt hands caress my back, but I shrugged them away, storming out and making a point to slam my door. If I could not escape this place physically, I would just end it all...
You should know, at the compound, we didn't have usual medicine like you "outsider" folk had, so I couldn't kill myself with a simple overdose. But, we did have sharp things. And lots of them. I was on the brink of committing suicide, of taking the coward's way out. I couldn't handle it anymore, the constant pressure, the constant feeling of incompletion. I wanted more than what this world offered, and if I couldn't escape, then I would not live. Blinded by my rage and melancholy, I was about to perform an unspeakable act, a sin that would have ensured my soul a one way ticket to the pits of Hell; I had the knife over my arm... but, before I could bring it down, my eyes caught a glimpse of the torn dollar bill... the item that had driven my brother mad. And yet, it did not push me over the edge but instead it quieted my urge to kill myself. I remembered the words that my brother had said to me before they took him away. I remembered the silent promise I had made that I would continue on until I found my way to the outside world. And it was this thought that my brother saved my life...
I set the knife down on the bedside table and looked blankly around. My body felt exhausted, as if it had been through a war on its own. It was then that my senses came back to me, that my ears were able to hear once again and my nose able to smell. I tasted the blood upon my tongue, obviously from the bitten lip that I must have unconsciously sunk my teeth into as I was held in my fit of conflicting emotions. By now, I could hear my parents and Demetria arguing, with Ruby trying to play the peace keeper as she always did. This place was tearing us apart. It was tearing away at our lives. So, without a single ounce of hesitation, I removed myself from my room and stumbled toward the living area on shaky legs.
"Rocco was right, you know." My voice was small, but enough to enchant a spell of silence about the hysterical atmosphere. My parents looked at me blankly. My father rolled his eyes and sighed.
"Not this again, Oliver..." He was about to start, but I took another step forward.
"I don't want to be here anymore. I don't want this lifestyle. I want to know what everyone else knows. I want to experience the life that normal people do. I am tired of being God's servant. I want something more, I need something more... I need to be the best in the world at something..." And there it was, I was beginning to sound like Rocco. That one moment of insanity had awakened that dormant imagination that I had suppressed all my life, to avoid the stares that Rocco got. "I want to go to school... proper school, like the other kids outside our home." I wanted to learn things, and I wanted to have that taste of knowledge that so many took advantage of.
It took some time to convince my parents, but soon enough Demetria was the one that strong armed them into agreeing to the terms. I was to attend school, a normal high school. The only problem was, was that we had to move. We had no money and no assets, first of all, and secondly, my parents refused to leave the compound, afraid of what lingered in the distance. But, I started school nonetheless - I walked for an hour each day until I could meet the local school bus that transported me to a public high school. My parents would often make up countless stories to appease the curious, suspicious minds of the neighbours and friends at the compound, since national education was frowned upon in our encampment. However, as the days passed by, more and more people became suspicious of my activities; I guess it showed in the way that I started to speak and the things I was able to do. Maths was like child's play. Reading was as easy as milking old Betsie. Soon enough, they caught us out on our little secret and we were forced to flee beneath the cover of the night to avoid be sent to the Cleanse like more poor, dear brother. I guess it took his death to give me courage to speak up for what I wanted, and it gave my parents the reasons they needed to leave.
We lived as refugees for a while, my father took odd manual labour jobs here and there until he earned enough to buy us a proper house. It wasn't much, but it was better than the shelter we had been shoved into. He was then recruited into another job that allowed me to attend a better school, in which I excelled so well that I was able to accept the position offered in the Hawaiian university. My father wasn't permitted to move with us - he had struck such a good deal with his latest employer that I didn't want to break his routine once again. In order to keep my father in the company, his employer ended up paying for everything, for my sisters' and I to relocate. He even paid for our accommodation for the first few months until I moved into the Dorm rooms and my sisters got onto their own two feet.
But what made me go into law? Well, I'm not entirely sure. I guess it was more the way I saw them speak on the television; the way they wore their suits and the way they were able to present an argument in the most sophisticated manner ever. They looked good. And it looked as though they had tons of the dollar bills. It was a dream my brother and I had shared. And it was going to come true for me.
I took on odd jobs in my early months of university; finding myself drawn to animal shelters and working as one of the handlers there. It was volunteer work, granted, but I was on a full scholarship so I didn't care - the only time that money ever bothered me was when my friends wanted to go out. I could never join because I didn't have the money; instead, I would sit in my room or on the veranda and strum idly at my guitar. That is until a group of guys heard me.... I recognized them from the animal shelters across the island and almost instantly we clicked. And that was basically the formation of the Shelter Pups... I won't go much into that, but basically we first played at functions to raise funds for the local animal shelters, only to find out that people enjoyed us, causing us to look for greater opportunities in the world of music and money making...
One more thing that I need to get off my chest, is my first experience of love.
I must say I was kind of unprepared for Cupid's arrow. But it struck me hard during the one event my band and I played at. She was gorgeous, a blonde haired angel with large doe-like brown eyes, and skin soft as silk. Her name was Emma. She was the first and best mistake I have ever made. She teased me with her lip bitten smiles while I was on stage, twirling her hair around her finger. She was far too perfect for me to even think of; however, my friends pushed me toward her, and soon enough I found myself dating one of the most attractive girls in my university. All the guys were jealous. It was a great feeling. I broke my virginity for her... for her promise of being together forever; yet, soon after I was reminded why many people referred to a woman's heart as being a fickle thing. For soon enough my angel flew away and into another's arms. We're in completely separate classes now, and I barely ever see her; but I am sure I have caught glimpses of her while on the stage... She was the one that stole my heat then broke it into a dozen pieces... I will never forgive her for that.
Alright, I think I must stop here for now. I can already hear Prof walking down the corridor.
So that was my sob story... and now it's time to see where this next journey will take me...