Walaa, a 5-year-old Syrian refugee, cries every night at her camp in Lebanon. Resting her head on the pillow is horrible, she said, because nighttime is horrible. That was when the attacks happened back home. By day, Walaa's mother often builds a little house out of pillows to teach her there is nothing to be afraid of.
Fatima, 9, sits in bed in Norberg, Sweden. Every night, she said, she dreams that she's falling from a ship. After two years at a refugee camp in Lebanon, Fatima and her family boarded an overcrowded boat in Libya. On the deck of the boat, a woman gave birth to her baby after 12 hours in the scorching sun. The baby was stillborn and thrown overboard. Fatima saw everything. When their boat started to take on water, they were picked up by the Italian Coast Guard.
Moyad, 5, sleeps in a hospital in Amman, Jordan. He and his mother were on their way to a market in Syria when a bomb went off. Moyad's mother died instantly. Moyad was airlifted to Jordan with shrapnel lodged in his head, back and pelvis.
Fara, 2, loves soccer. Her dad tries to make balls for her by crumpling up anything he can find, but they don't last long. Every night, he says goodnight to Fara and her big sister in the hope that tomorrow will bring them a proper ball to play with.
Abdullah, 5, sleeps outside a railway station in Belgrade, Serbia. He saw the killing of his sister in their home in Daraa, Syria. He is still in shock and has nightmares every night, his mother says. Abdullah is tired and has a blood disease, but his mother does not have any money to buy medicine for him.
Shiraz, 9, rests at a refugee camp in Suruc, Turkey. She was 3 months old when she was stricken with a severe fever. A doctor diagnosed polio and advised her parents to not spend too much money on medicine. Then the war came. Her mother, Leila, starts crying when she describes how she wrapped her daughter in a blanket and carried her over the border from Kobani, Syria, to Turkey. Shiraz, who can't talk, received a wooden cradle in the refugee camp. She lies there day and night.
Mohammed, 13, lies in a hospital bed in Nizip, Turkey. Back home in Aleppo, Syria, he used to enjoy walking around the city looking at houses. Now many of his favorite buildings are gone, blown to pieces. Lying in his bed, Mohammed wonders whether he will ever fulfill his dream of becoming an architect. "The strangest thing about war is that you get used to feeling scared. I wouldn't have believed that," he said.
Ahmed, 6, sleeps on the ground in Horgos, Serbia. The adults were still sitting around after midnight, formulating plans for how they were going to get out of Hungary without registering themselves with the authorities. Ahmed carries his own bag over the long stretches that his family walks by foot. "He is brave and only cries sometimes in the evenings," says his uncle, who has taken care of him since his father was killed in their hometown in northern Syria.
Amir, 20 months old, was born a refugee. His mother believes he was traumatized in the womb. "Amir has never spoken a single word," she said. In the plastic tent where the family now lives in Zahle, Lebanon, Amir has no toys. But he plays with whatever he can find on the ground. "He laughs a lot, even though he doesn't talk," his mother said.