TV personality Melissa Doyles' heart melted when she visited refugee Syrian children Melissa Doyle hears the heartbreaking stories of refugee children who have fled the Syrian civil war to the safety of the World Vision Women's Refuge In Irbid, Jordan. HE'S a little boy with big brown eyes and a soft voice, but a heavy heart and a lip that quivers uncontrollably as he recounts the horror he has witnessed; 11-year-old Obida is a refugee from the Syrian civil war. He doesn't cry but continuously clasps and unclasps his hands as he tells me about the day three years ago when soldiers stormed his school, killing his teacher and the two guards at the gate who were trying to keep them safe. He and the other children fled in panic; and that fear has kept him away from school ever since. For the next three months he hid at home with his family as the war intensified outside. Melissa Doyle tours the Za'atari Refugee Camp In Jordan. They had nothing to do and only soup to eat. He says the shops that weren't destroyed were closed, but no one was brave enough to leave their houses anyway. He listened to bombs fall every day, but it was when they learnt chemical weapons were being used that his family fled. They took nothing with them as they made the treacherous journey to Jordan's capital Amman then north to Irbid. We're sitting together on plastic chairs in the dusty courtyard of a World Vision women's refuge centre. The staff say when Obida first arrived he was so scared he didn't speak to anyone. Only now is he opening up, trying to settle into life in a new country and catch up on the three years of school he missed. He tells me he finally feels safe, but desperately wants to go home. Two million Syrians have fled their homes during the three-year conflict, and half of them are children. Time to be children again: smoe inquisitive Syrian children at the camp. Children like Deema. A proud 12-year-old girl, clearly the leader next to her 14-year-old brother Amer and sister Aya, 9. She tells me about the day they were happily playing in the front garden of her house with their five-year-old cousin. She doesn't look me in the eye as she remembers hearing the planes get closer and watching as the bombs started falling from them. They ran inside but her little cousin wasn't fast enough. Her uncle ran out into the dust and debris calling for his little girl. He scooped her into his arms and rushed her to hospital but she was so badly injured she died. Deema's leg was torn open by shrapnel, her hand injured. After two days in hospital her family made the decision to leave Syria. By then their house was destroyed. They walked for two days, stopping only at emergency rooms for Deema's still-bleeding wounds to be re-dressed. Melissa Doyle with Hind who lives in a tent lined with dardboard in a refugee camp in the Bekaa Valley In Northern Lebanon. They reached the Za'atari refugee camp across the border at 11 o'clock at night, staying for two days until they were strong enough to continue on to Irbid. They are trying to settle but her father is still in Jordan with his own mother who is too sick to travel. The children scream at night if there is no light. Deema's mother does nothing but compulsively clean the house, or just sit in silence. The stories keep coming. There is a centre full of children who have lost parents, friends and their homes. Rooms full of kids whose childhoods are forever tarnished by death and fear. Haya is 12. She is a beautiful young girl, draped in a soft white headscarf. A rainbow over the Bekaa Valley camp. She ran from Syria with her mother and brother after her father was killed in the war. They were sheltering at her aunt's when they saw, on television, their home being burned to the ground. Yasmeen is 11. Her father secured passports to get her and her mother across the border. They reached Beirut in the snow before making their way to Jordan. She hasn't seen her father since. They are stories that break your heart. Children who have seen their fathers tortured and killed, their homes bombed and dead bodies in their street. They have run from their houses and schools in fear, searching for somewhere safe to hide. They have walked for days to cross the border and find a safe haven. But they are the lucky ones - 11,000 children have been killed. Those who survived are now trying to settle, to find some sort of normalcy in a strange country. Syrian children at the Za'atari camp in Jordan. They have years of schooling to catch up on. And at home they have parents struggling to cope. A generation of kids playing war games with a level of violence beyond what is normal for little boys. Small children, stronger than they should be. But strong they are. Like Hind, a regular 15-year-old girl from Homs in Syria. Her dad owned the local supermarket and tended to their rose garden. She says they were famous in town for their magnificent home. She loved school and hanging with her five best friends, as any teenager would. But they left it all just over a year ago when the bombs made it unsafe to stay. Now she lives in a tent lined with cardboard in the Beqaa Valley in northern Lebanon and survives on food vouchers. Kids at the Za'atari Camp. She tells me she never dreamt she would walk on dirt, let alone live like this. They serve us fresh Turkish coffee in delicate cups on a silver tray, a hospitable gesture made with pride and good manners. The tent is small and neat but Hind's mother continuously apologises for it, and seeks reassurance that it's clean and we are comfortable. Hind is a sweet, gentle young girl. She speaks softly but is composed, strong and ­intelligent. I am in no doubt she will survive and find a way to make her dreams of being a teacher come true, even though her childhood has taken an unexpected turn. She has her dignity and her future, just not in the way she had expected. None of those I speak with cry. They have all been deeply affected by the horrors they've witnessed; how can they not? They're kids. They should be playing, not mourning parents and wondering if their best friends are still alive. Maybe Obida, Deema and Hind are the strong ones who will shape the future of Syria for the better.