Carver spun her head to look at Jack and scowled at him. "With all due respect, [i]Pumpkin King[/i]," she snapped, "you have [i]no idea[/i] what he puts me through, so you have [i]no right[/i] to tell me how I should or shouldn't [i]handle[/i] it. [i]You[/i] don't have to spend every moment of your [i]existence[/i] trying to convince him to treat you like a [i]person[/i]."

She suddenly slammed her mouth shut. That was... not supposed to actually come out. She felt safe enough venting at Sally, who at least had some experience being in a similar position and didn't have the authority to lock her away for eternity for speaking out of line. Jack was the opposite. She didn't feel comfortable with him, he had no personal experience to give him perspective, and -- as he had pointed out -- he very much could punish her with permanent imprisonment if he felt like it.

...On the other hand, she'd just violently attacked a disabled person and pulled his brain out, in public, so there probably wasn't much worse of trouble she could get in. Might as well say her piece anyway, since she'd already started.

Carver turned and glared into the big standing mirror. "He was taunting me about my punishment work. Pointed out I was just sitting at a table, carving pumpkins and not talking to anyone. Said it was nice to see me 'finally functioning properly'. He's [i]constantly[/i] acting like I [i]owe[/i] him something for giving me life, but he never lets me [i]forget[/i] that he never [i]wanted[/i] me to be alive in the [i]first place[/i]! He wanted me to be some mindless machine so he could take my carvings and use them to win the jack o'lantern contest [i]himself[/i], and he's perpetually shocked and [i]angry[/i] that I didn't turn out like that."

Her voice broke, and a part of her was glad to be incapable of producing tears because she wouldn't have been able to stop herself if she could cry. As it was, she couldn't even stop talking now that she'd started. "When I was little, I thought I was supposed to be a kid just cuz of my size. And I saw Corpse Kid and the two grownups he called parents, and I thought that was what the Finkelsteins were supposed to be for me. Jewel was surprised and confused by it, but she was at least content enough to run with it. But him? [i]Hell no[/i]! He was just pissed I had any kind of thoughts to begin with."

She started laughing wryly. "I remember the first time one of my heads broke and fell off. I carried the pieces to them, expecting Mummy and Daddy to fix it. He just... looked at me with disgust, and told me to make a new one. After all, that's what I was [i]for[/i]. Jewel tried to get him to at least [i]act[/i] like he cared, but he just waved us both off and went back to whatever he was working on. Then she sent me off to get help from Behemoth, because she was too busy to."

She sniffled. It was a trick she'd learned from Barrel when they were kids, though he didn't do it on purpose, and she mostly did it out of habit and reflex now. Like tear ducts, she lacked sinuses to make sniffling necessary or even useful. But after a few decades, it felt natural when she was feeling particularly upset. 

But she didn't like doing that in front of other people. Especially adults, and [i]especially[/i] authority figures. So she quickly cut it off and switched back to anger and bitterness.

"Jewel [i]tries[/i]. He [i]doesn't[/i]. Four decades later, and he [i]still[/i] won't accept that I didn't come out the way he wanted, still won't even [i]attempt[/i] to take my thoughts and feelings seriously. So [i]yeah[/i], I think he [i]deserves[/i] to have his brain pulled out and his body used as a prop for a week. It's the [i]least[/i] he fucking deserves."