Work of Fiction.
They never found her body.
It was not very far from where they had been looking, but they never found it. No one ever walked over it though, most people not caring or knowing. Alone, scared, she simply laid there in the hole. The soft brown earth cushioned her, held her loosely as the soil was not very packed. Her arms across her chest, her yes closed as in sweet repose. Her hair had been short shorter than what it had been before, and two of her front teeth had been knocked out. She was just a nameless child, buried in a shallow grave.
No one but her family would remember she existed. No one but her family would know that once there had been a cherubim, an angel, who loved life and her family. No one but her family would remember she was gone.
Not even the cruel man who took her life.