This scene is also called waking up in the hospital room

This scene seems very familiar. I've definitely done this before, and it's not fun. You'd think that it would be easier the second time around. As my consciousness begins to surface, my head begins to throb in a rhythmic pattern, as if I'm bobbing up and down in a turbulent sea. Seeking a more comfortable position, my bedraggled head turns on the cheap plastic pillow, my hair snagging on the rough fibers as I stir. My sleep-filled eyes are met with a view of plastic beige colored guardrails, restricting the view of the tall windows framed by pale green curtains beyond it. Hah, I'm in a hospital bed, aren't I? And this is a hospital room, isn't it? Yeah, this is the second time I'm experiencing the 'waking-up-in-a-hospital-room-with-a-splitting-headache' scene. I'm pretty sure I'm a pro by now.

I lift my arm to try to support myself up, only to feel cold metal digging into my skin, restricting my movements. Huh? I look down to see shiny metallic rings encircle both of my thin wrists, while tiny chain links snake around the beige guardrails. Are these... handcuffs? Wait, am I being handcuffed to the bed like some sort of criminal? How dare they treat me like this? The handcuffs noisily clang against the rails as I irritably tug on them. The more I tug on them, the more it tightens, reminding me of a boa constrictor coiling around its prey. I ignore the pain caused by the friction of skin and metal rubbing which leaves my flesh raw and red.

"You're awake."

My head immediately snaps towards the strange voice. My muscles begin to tense, as my eyes zoom in on the intruder. Was this guy always here? Why didn't I notice him before? Caucasian male, probably in his sixties due to his balding head and grey hair, about 5' 7'' in height, could be around 160 lbs, looks light enough to toss around. Glasses mean he has poor vision, and those poor excuse for arms wouldn't help him in a fight. White lab coat means a medical professional. Threat level: zero. Target level: baby level. In a split of second, my mind goes into hyperdrive, analyzing the foreigner before me. Without really knowing why, my brain assigns the old man with a non-threatening status, and my tensed muscles relax. Hmmm, this man in front of me should be an easy target. Wait, an easy target for what? I feel like I'm missing something here. You know what? Doesn't matter, forget it. It takes too much brain power to think. Right now I'm more concerned about what I'm doing here, and this old man should have all the answers.

"You're the doctor?" Despite having just woken up, my voice comes out clear and steady. The withered doctor flinches at the sound of my voice. His flinch doesn't escape my notice. Hmmm, interesting. Earlier, he had also shrank under the pressure of my scrutinizing gaze, and I had noticed a slight tremor in his right hand.

'Ahem', he clears his throat. "Yes, I am Dr. Anthony Marden," his deep voice sounds cautious, almost probing, "do you remember anything?"

Dr. Anthony Marden, huh? I leisurely glance at him. Dark bags heavier than sand bags droop under his eyes, and the wrinkles on his face map his many years of experience. The white and gray hairs that circle his bald head like a crown are tousled in so many different directions, as if he had decided to blow dry his hair using a hurricane. Tsk, tsk, look at how wrinkled his white lab coat is, and the way his shoulders slump underneath his unbuttoned dress shirt. He doesn't even have his shoelaces tied. What a terrible expression he has on. Looks like he didn't get any sleep last night. Could it be because of me? A small sly smile, indiscernible to the human eye, appears briefly on my lips, gone as soon as it came, like a breeze passing by. Dr. Marden, unknowingly shivers, probably wishing to turn off the air conditioner.

"I don't remember anything, including who I am," I say with a rather cool voice.

"You don't remember anything?" Dr. Marden's white bushy brow raises into a high arch, displaying an annoyingly surprised expression.

"No, I don't."

"Not even a little?" I don't miss the flash of joy that flickered on his face, or the way the doctor struggled to hide his emotions. I choose not to repeat myself and stare at him blankly. "You seem rather calm for a person who has just lost his memories," the doctor says with the inflection of his voice raising in the end, displaying a bit of nervousness.

"Well, it's not my first time waking up in a hospital room with no idea why, and not being able to remember anything," I said dryly. "However, these are new," I lift my arm with the handcuff dangling off it, the metallic chains swinging back and forth, glittering and clanking, bringing attention to the trace of red skin circling my wrists.

"Oh, that's a... that's a... just a precaution," his flustered face is dyed with pink as he stumbles to find the right word, shouting at the end, as if shouting could hide his restlessness, "that's right! It's just a precaution!"

"A precaution for what?" my eyes narrow.

"Ummm, last time you woke up... You were a bit a... You were really panicked and a bit hysterical. You grabbed onto me and wouldn't let go. We put those on you just in case you became violent when you woke up a second time."

"Violent?"

"Not violent! Not violent! You're not a violent person by any means. In fact you hate violence. Yes, you absolutely detest it! You abhor it!" At this point, the doctor is practically shouting, rambling on like a train with no breaks, "No, no, no, we didn't put those on you because you were violent. We just wanted to protect you. Yes, we wanted to protect you from harming yourself. We didn't know if you would wake up panicked again. I just--"

"Take it off."

"Sorry?" The doctor is caught off guard, his face still red from ranting without taking any breaths.

"I said, take. it. off."