The thick darkness envelopes Daisy, and she strains her ears, futilely trying to predict the demon's next move. Daisy forces herself to quit trembling with fear and anticipation. She is the prey, no doubt, and that fact both frightens and excites her. Thrown over the edge of sanity, she frowns out of frustration. "Do something already!" she taunts, but the reply she receives is not expressed in words. The weight of tree branches binds her wrists together, yet nothing tangible appears. Vines snake around her ankles, but they can't be seen. A scream fights to leave her throat, but her lips are sealed, creating muffled protests.

"Oh, little flower, this is what you wanted; is it not? Something, right?" The malicious voice of her tormentor boggles her senses. "Death is something, correct?" Panic overrides her system, evoking uncontrollable tremors. "Perhaps it'd be suitable to die at the very hand of your name, little flower," as his silky voice mocks her, the distinct aroma of daisies invades the space, choking her. "Or, like a seed, you could be buried deep in the soil." The musk of dirt replaces the wretched plants, suffocating her. As Daisy's lungs yearn for unreachable air, her legs collapse under her, throwing her to the cold floor. The dark world around Daisy becomes fuzzy, and she waits for death. She can see it a few feet away, waving. All at once, it's gone: the earthy stench, the hold on her throat, but the fear remains. The demon appears next to her, looming over Daisy. Yanking on her hair, he forces Daisy to look at him. "Or maybe, I'll torment you to the point where you wish for death yourself."