Name: Oliver Hart
Nickname: Ollie - Don't try to throw this nickname out there. He doesn't necessarily like it, but he tolerates a small number of people calling him by it.
Age: 23
Theme song: Sad Songs
Faceclaim: Taylor Kitsch
Physical Description: Oliver is not what people consider physically imposing.  He stands just at 6 foot, but he has never considered himself at a disadvantage from his height. Perhaps this comes from him not participating in sports during his adolescence. Height may matter on the basketball court, but it doesn’t when you’re on your back beneath a car.  He also does not have the body of a jock. Instead of thick, corded muscles, his body is lean and more tuned with a runner than a bodybuilder. The shape of his biceps and triceps reveal that he does take care of himself, but bulk was never his goal.

His dark hair is a mess, long enough to cast  shadows over his sharp, heavily lidded, dark green eyes. His hair is rarely styled and seems to have a mind of its own. He stopped trying to tame them years again. Instead, he embraced it because his hair was one of the first things his mother couldn’t control.   The shadows cast by his locks fit his stoic expression.

Solemn and sober are two words often used to describe Oliver Hart’s physical expression. He has carried such a heavy burden for so many years that it has been difficult to find a reason to smile. When he does, it is more of a rebellion-filled smirk.  His pale features reveal he prefers the nightlife over the brightness of the day.

When it comes to clothing, Oliver prefers dark-washed jeans and t-shirts. Some are stained from his time beneath the hoods of cars, and others are ripped both from wear and style. One thing that remains the same is his black leather jacket.

Distinguishing Features: There is really nothing that distinguishes Oliver from anyone else. He does not have any piercings. He only has one tattoo, and it is a cage broken with a raven escaping the confines.  If there must be something noted, then it would be his voice.

Because he is normally so quiet, when he does speak, people tend to listen. His voice is smooth, modulated, and low.  Perhaps this is from the public speaking he has been forced to do at events for his parents advocating for missing children or from his oral presentations during high school. Whatever it was, he has been complimented on the tone of his voice and informed that it is an addictive sound and easy on the ears.

Personality Description: When it comes to personality, Oliver is a reserved individual.  He has always struggled with social situations; this comes from being under his mother’s thumb for so many years and unable to socialize properly. It only got worse when the depression set in, which triggered bad bouts of insomnia that sometimes lasted for days.  His fatigue from sleepless nights made it challenging to focus on his peers and high school drama.

He is a very quiet individual. How do you hold a conversation with ordinary people when you are so messed up?    This is why he has always found solace beneath cars – you do not have to hold a conversation when all anyone can see are your jeaned legs and booted feet. Although, he talks to the cars plenty (not that he would admit that to anyone.)  He is not sure how his therapist continued their sessions – he never verbalized anything to him because it wouldn’t matter. He would be wrong, his mother would be right, and he would be guilt-tripped into giving her what she wanted.

What are some of your character's likes and dislikes?

Likes: Fast cars. Street racing. Motorcycles. Books. Blondes. Classical music.

Dislikes: Cops. Wine. People that try to force their feelings/opinions on others (basically, his mother).

History:

Oliver Hart was born to a home that was happy and filled with love – once upon a time. But unfortunately, the parents that raised him were shells of the ones that grace the frames hanging throughout his childhood home, but that is what happens to people when they walk through the hell that the Harts did.  Oliver was born two years after the abduction of their first child, Charles (“Charlie”), and even though his mother never verbalized it, Oliver knew that he was meant to be the replacement for the son that she lost, which is a hell of a burden to put on the shoulders of a kid.

It was up to him to bring his father and especially his mother the happiness that somebody stole from them along with their first son.   Oliver’s mother should have waited, but the desire for a child to fill the void after Charlie’s disappearance became an obsession, which Oliver soon filled, but his presence did not bring her the peace that she longed for. Instead, it brought her more heartache, which was projected onto her son.

When he was three years old, Oliver's mother and father decided that the loss of Charlie was too much and that, even with a new child, nothing could bridge the gap that had separated them during the trying time after their loss. Because of this, Oliver was raised by an overprotective mother.   The first ten years of his life, he really did not understand his situation – all he knew was that he wanted to make his mother happy. So, he tried to be the perfect angel that would bring her as little stress as possible. He stayed right next to her when they shopped. He did not ask to play outside without supervision.  He embraced his mother’s quirks without question – until he didn’t.  At the age of 10, he asked if he could go to public school instead of continuing to homeschool. It was a summer filled with back and forth between him and his mother and arguing (yelling matches) between his parents.

Finally, they came to an agreement, and he was placed in school. Victory! Around this time, Oliver noticed things he had overlooked or simply didn’t see as a problem. His mother did not allow him to have friends outside of school. He was not allowed to join sports or participate in afterschool activities, and he was not allowed to ride the bus even though their home was located ten minutes from the school.  His mother’s grip seemed to tighten, and the weight on his shoulders got heavier.

He continued to do everything he could to keep the peace. He did not push his luck; he did not bring friends home; he did not step a single toe out of line and continued to bear the weight of his mother’s emotions, even during the intense waves of depression that she often felt throughout the year. These days (months) often coincided with dates that revolved around Charlie – his birthday, his abduction day, etc.

His father was not as bad, but after the divorce he threw himself into his work, which meant they rarely saw him, and when they did, he was overworked and exhausted.  The only common ground the two shared was their love for cars. On the weekends that his father did not work and he was able to sleep over, you could find them under the hood of a car, shopping for parts, or watching (legal) races.  This planted a love in him that would eventually consume him.

His relationship with his mother continued to get worse. The tighter she held. The more he desired freedom.  But he also knew that it was his job to keep her happy, so he continued to oblige and be the son she deserved, the good boy that she had lost, and he tried not to worry her, even when his mental health was suffering.

He grew distant from his parents, started struggling in school, and what little social life he had been allowed went downhill.

His mother blamed herself. She put him in therapy.  They tried different techniques. And different medications.  But his father tried something else – on Oliver’s 16th birthday, he gifted him with a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle.  His father’s kindness would begin his son’s downfall.  Oliver spent the next year working on the car – there were days where he missed school, evenings he missed dinner, and nights he missed sleep. Who wants to do the latter when you are met with nothing but calamity, monsters, and despair?

At the age of 17, the dam he had worked so hard to build against his rebellion broke – he drove in his first street race. The speed, the adrenaline, it was everything he had been craving since his childhood. For the first time in seventeen years, Oliver Hart felt like himself. His mother’s sadness did not consume him when he was behind the wheel – his nightmares couldn’t chase him when the speedometer reached certain speeds.  When he was on the streets, he was not the son of the crazy, overprotective mother - he was a force to be reckoned with.

He rode the high with everything he had. He won. He lost. He dived into the lifestyle before him and embraced it – drugs, speed, alcohol, girls. He barely finished high school (but finish he did), and the day he turned eighteen, he left home and broke off all contact with his mother. She said she loved him, but all he wanted was for her to hate him. Oliver continued down the rabbit hole for another year. Each race was euphoria. Each hit kept the monsters at bay. Each day he went without talking to his mother was another day of freedom.

Two months after his twentieth birthday, it all changed.  Undercover cops got involved, snitches were talking, and for the first time, he wasn’t fast enough.  He got caught – along with other members of the group he ran with – and now that he was nineteen, he could be tried as an adult. He faced jail time.  A bail there was no way his father could afford. Everything he had worked for was gone in the flash of red and blue lights.

Then, one day, he was released without explanation from the cops. Someone had posted his bail. Everything had been dropped. All his debts on the streets were paid in full.  When things seem too good to be true, they usually are…