Evilness is perfection?

Emma had her head to the back of me; she was not looking me in the eye. All I could see of her was her long, ash blonde hair and her back. The way she was sitting meant I couldn't see her legs.
"What is it? Why won't you tell me?" I pleaded.
"I need to tell you something." Emma said, her voice showing no emotion.
"....What is it?” I said, near tears.
"I don't love you. Not like I did yesterday." She said, her voice cold, icy.
I felt myself start to shake, rather violently. I thought I wouldn't be able to speak, but I did.
"No. I know that's not true. You listen to me, you love me." I argued.
Emma laughed; it sounded almost evil. "You really think I do? You are more naive then I thought." She grinned.
"No! I know you do!" I said, screaming and crying my heart out.
"You’re wrong. I don't love you. Maybe I love you slightly. But not like I did yesterday." She was still smiling, her brown eyes glistening, so perfectly.....
"Well, if I'm so wrong, how come you listen all night long?” I cried, yelling as loud as I could. But I had left her defenceless; there was no way she could answer back now.
But all she did was walk away. And I never saw her again.1