Five years. He spent five years enduring physical, and mental pain. Sometimes, he had wished that it was him who died rather than his father. Oliver Queen, was broken. The day he had been found, was the day he had thought would never come. Oliver didn't fancy how the city was, with cars everywhere, people everywhere, new things to do, just the technology in general, it all confused him.
Waking up in a hospital bed, Oliver winced, not yet understanding how much pain his body had endured the day before he was found. His heart rate began to spike, the machine's beeps began to quicken, and hospital staff were alerted to it. The door to Oliver's room swung open as a nurse rushed over to him, "Hey! It's alright, relax." Oliver blinked a few times, brows furrowed in confusion, "Where? Where am I?" His heart rate stayed constant, still rapidly beating. The woman called for a doctor to come and help her assess the situation, "Starling City. Look Oliver, you're safe, you're home."
Home? Oliver Queen couldn't be home... no, he was just on the island! "I can't be home. No—I was just on the island!" He hadn't meant to raise his voice, he just couldn't help it, he felt scared... vulnerable. Oliver acted quickly; swinging his legs to the side of the bed, he stood, stumbling a bit before he looked around, eyes full of fear. Then he ran.
Sprinting down the hospital hall, Oliver looked around, nearly panting with anxiety. Oliver Queen, was confined, confused, and half naked. His scarred upper body visible to all as he ran around. Seeing himself in mirrors did no good. His hair was trimmed short, his beard reduced like his hair, and the scars, all reminded him that he was not what everyone would expect, "Ollie?" A quiet, gasping voice caught the archer's attention: Thea, her eyes wide, and mouth agape as she transfixed her eyes on her brother. Sitting beside his sister, Moira, her own blue eyes fixating on Oliver's.
"There!" A man yelled out, pointing to Oliver as security guards walked into the hospital, greeted by hospital staff. The archer ran again, only to stop. He was cornered, "Oliver! Calm down. It's alright." The stern voice of a guard sounded behind him, then a hand was on his shoulder. Acting out of pure defense, Oliver grabbed the man's hand, swept his legs out from underneath him, and flipped him, slamming him into the ground, "Ollie!" Thea rounded the corner, and stopped, Moira beside her as they pleaded the guards to walk away, that they could calm him down, but the guards disregarded that.
Slowly advancing towards the archer, two more men warily observed the troubled man. They got too close. Oliver kicked one's knees in, grabbed the other's neck, flipped him onto the other man, hands shaking now, "Stop!" Moira shouted, gaining her son's attention, "Oliver... I'm sorry." After a few moments of silence, Oliver's posture relaxed more, his breathing slowing down, heart rate decreasing. Oliver hadn't meant to hurt them, nor did he expect to have an outburst like that. Hospital staff stared at him, stricken with fear, families of patients, wide-eyed as they witnessed Oliver Queen, Prince of Starling City, break down.
Falling to his knees, Oliver let himself close his eyes, a dry sob escaping his lips. It had been so long since he had been in a hospital, too long. Oliver couldn't help but feel threatened by all the people, he was surprised that none tried to hurt him. The island changed him, made him weaker, and made him stronger. A single teardrop streaked down the left side of his face, his hands still shaking as he opened his blue eyes, staring at the three unconscious guards lying around him, and for once, his desperate, weak voice finally stated something, "I'm sorry."