Just For A Couple Days

I would never purposefully make them mad. I’m just a kid after all, but it’s like walking on eggshells around them—one wrong word, one slow response, and it’s over. I try so hard to make them happy, I want their love like any child would. I try my hardest to be a good boy for them, I try so hard to avoid what comes next. “Just for a couple days,” they always say.
This morning, I made a pretty big mistake—I broke my mom’s favorite glass. I tried to glue it back together but I'm no good at stuff like that. It was an accident, but that didn’t matter to them. When I look into their eyes begging for their love, I don't know... I don't even know if they've ever even wanted me.
Her voice was softer this time, almost sad, as my father lowered me into the ground. I could barely make out her words through the dirt hitting the wooden slats: “It’s the only way you’re going to learn.”
It’s dark down here, darker than normal. So dark it feels like the shadows are squirming on my skin. I used to scream and bang my fists against the coffin until they bled, but I’ve learned better—that only makes it worse in the end. I don’t know how long it’s been this time, but I know that I'm starting not to feel very well. My voice cracks as I try to whisper, “I’m ready to come out now,” but it’s so faint I’m not even sure it’s real. This time, I'm getting really scared that they meant what they said: “Next time, we’ll leave you down there for good.” I pray they don't mean that. "I'm sorry mama, please don't leave me."