And the world stopped spinning

I woke up excrutiatingly slowly the next morning, only dimly aware of my surroundings, where I was. I became awae that my body felt stiff and numb, and I wondered why, just when all my memories of the day before came flooding back to me.
And I felt the pain all over again.
I tried to focus on anything but that, anything but Max, but no matter what I thought about, there was always the sharp stabbing feeling in my chest where she used to be. I rolled my head to the side, to check the time -11:48. Crap, it was nearly mid day. I'd slept through my alarm, which had never happened before. Ever. Though the past 24 hours meant a lot of firsts for me.
I groaned slightly as I sat up, looking down at myself. My jeans lookes darker than normal, and I put a hand on my knee to find it was still damp. I checked my hair and shirt -yep, they were damp too. Wonderful.
Sighing, I stood up to get a towel. I nearly fell over as my numb body disoriented me. Why did I still feel so numb? I wondered as I carefully made my way to the bathroom. I was glad I'd left the door open.
I walked in and pulled the thickest towel I had off of the rack, draping it around my shoulders. I grabbed another one to put on my bed -which was also wet and muggy- then turned to walk back out.
Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection, the mirror on the wall opposite the rack showing somebody that couldn't possibly be me.
I looked like I'd died and come back to life again. I was pale as a ghost, my dark, matted hair contrasting brightly to the white. I had deep purple bags under my eyes, which were red and puffy. My lips were an alarming shade of blue, with spots of red over them and my chin -dried blood. Ew.
My blue lips and ghostly complexion made me realize why I felt so numb and stiff, my body heavier than could be possible. Damn! I'd forgotten how low the temperature on our shower could go in my anguished feud. I was too cold to even know I was cold. I was beyond cold. I probably nearly killed myself.
I wish I had.
No! I wasn't going to give up. Though it's already me emotionally, I wasn't ending this. Maybe I could fix myself without Max. Maybe. I had to hold on to that tiny sliver of hope, of life. For now, I had to keep my body alive. Suicide was just wrong.
I opened my wardrobe, grabbing the thick quilt my mother had bought when our heater died last winter. I put it on the floor by my bed, then began searching in my drawers for some dry clothes. I just chose a black T-shirt, jeans, and a black hoodie.
Once I'd changed and dried my hair, I picked up the quilt and dragged it over to my desk, where my laptop sat. I booted it up, sitting down on the padded timber chair, wrapping the quilt around me. The feeling was starting to come back in my fingers and face, and damn it was cold. But I deserved it.
I opened Google Chrome, then typed an adress into the bar. Might as well check my mail while I'm here. I opened another tab while I waited for that to load. I typed 'hypothermia' into the search bar, hoping I'd find something that would help.
I flicked back to my mail while i waited for that. The only things in my inbox were a zillion ones from Facebook, and a few from somebody I didn't know. I was about to close the tab when I saw something.
In amongst all the spam, was an E-mail from Max.