Memories, or lack of them.

Have you ever been so afraid that you can feel the apprehension resting inside you like a chuck of lead? There's a sinker lodged right here in between my plates--there's got to be a hook in here, even though I can't feel it--and the line stretches out to somewhere I can't see, the thin wire getting fainter and fainter as I look back into my memory until it fades away totally. I don't know who's got the other end, but something tells me I can't just ignore this one...
Please don't ask me what happened, because I can't remember. My last memories are of carving pumpkins with Jack and Jill; the thin blade sinking into the orange flesh of the fruit and the appreciative 'eww' and 'yeech' noises coming from the pair of kids...putting the two jack o'lanterns out in front of the house, telling the story behind the tradition and snapping a few photos. I think I uploaded them after, but I can't be sure. The recollections get hazy and foggy, all conversations and actions slurring together into vague ideas: I think I went to work, so that means if I did then I played this music, did those kind of things. Just generalisations and mountains of circular logic. That's it...
... and then I'm waking up by the side of a road, vomiting into wet grass and dimly realising three things: one, I'm sleepy, two, I don't know where I am, and three--I'm scared. Not dread or apprehension, but hot animal terror--the kind that makes you want to run away or strike out at the first thing that moves in your sight. I can't adequately describe it in words, because I think I was beyond words...it's a miracle I could still read and type when I noticed the laptop computer. Whoever took me left it with me; I logged onto facebook and the rest is history.
I'm so glad I'm home and this is over, but is it over? This 'Kurt' did what he did for a reason; what was it?