The first thing he noticed when he woke up was that his head hurt. He searched for his glasses and once again realised where he was and why he couldn't find them. Without his glasses he could barely make out the shapes in the cell; or was it because of the darkness? He didn't know, and since he wasn't going to get his glasses, he would never find out. Neither was it on the long list of his worries.
He laid down again. There was simply no point in getting up. He didn't know what time it was. There was no window, not one ray of sunlight connecting him to the outside world. He didn't know if he had slept for two hours or for twelve, and it didn't matter. There was nothing to wake up to, and he wished he could sleep for years. Sleep until it was over. Sometimes he caught himself wishing he would never wake up, but then he thought of Billy. Of Martha. They were the only reason he managed to get some kind of grip on himself. They were his personal little ray of sunlight, even if he didn't get to see them for another few years. Even if they wouldn't want him anymore. That was one of the things on his list. One of the things that kept eating him away. They had no reason to care about him anymore. He had destroyed his own life, and he wouldn't be surprised if he had managed to destroy theirs in the process. He didn't want to think about what Billy's friends would say about it, Martha's colleagues. He didn't want to think about how they were looked upon because of what he did - so naturally it was one of the things he spent his days thinking about.
Occasionally Peter crossed his mind. Gwen. Sometimes both. He hoped they were okay. He hoped they would be okay together. Sometimes he was certain they were out there somewhere, happy. Once it managed to make him smile.
He worried about Oscorp too. He worried about what they would do with the formula, about what they might already be doing. He hadn't known its power when he handed it over (when it was stolen from you, a voice inside him whispered), but he knew now. He just hoped they would realise that, not having to learn the hard way.
Sighing, he rolled over to face the wall. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to influence anything happening outside the stone walls of his cell. It didn't make any sense to worry. It didn't make any sense to stress over every single detail of the events of the past, and how they would possibly influence the future. Yet he did.
It's because you're one of them, the voice inside him spoke again. One of the mammals. Weak.
That's right, he smiled to himself. It's because I'm human. And that's not my weakness. It's the only thing that makes me strong.