No, You Don't

You lie on your back, your fingers at your sides. Slowly, you spread your fingers and drag them toward your face. The surface is cool and smooth. A bed? You can feel the padding under you; it is comfortable but not luxurious. A hospital? Perhaps something is covering your eyes? Before they move a foot, your hands stop, arrested by something. Your fingers find cold metal links. Chains? You rotate your wrists while holding them above the padded surface. and are rewarded with the telltale clink of jangling metal. You appear to be chained to the bed.