VOICES columnist Amy Idem, originally from Lancashire, lives with her husband and three children. She writes about her cultural and life experiences here, and on her blog: https://memyselfandidil.wordpress.com/

We had finally made the decision to leave İdil, even if things began to improve there would be no telling when things could start to go downhill again.

From experience we knew that things could change in a matter of hours here and there would be no warning, no time to escape.

We decided we would leave in around two weeks to give us plenty of time to pack up our entire house and say our goodbyes.

I spent a few days in the house, not wanting to face the Spanish inquisition I was bound to receive. I spent time researching our options, what we could and would do next.

I was engrossed in a web page when the only true friend I had made in İdil popped up at my window and asked if I was coming for a walk, I accepted her offer as a walk and some fresh air would be more than welcome.

It was 17.30 and though a fleeting moment of doubt passed through my mind, wondering if we should stray so far when it would soon be dusk, I quickly dispelled these thoughts as part of the ever increasing paranoia I was beginning to experience.

We walked to a mutual friend’s house, walking companionably and joking about how this may be the last time we go there together, due to our impending move.

We arrived and sat comfortably in the vast garden, the children were free to play and we could chat to our hearts content. We were offered tea or coffee and accepted gladly, completely unaware that this would be the start of the most terrifying night of our lives.

We sipped the coffee leisurely and I noted that night time was rapidly approaching, it was still light but only just, a blanket of dullness engulfed the town.

Then we heard it – loud, fast, violent, close. I looked to my friend, who hadn’t been in İdil for the last very bad gun battle, and asked her if she now believed what we had been saying about the ever mounting possibility of a civil war.

She agreed and we began to round up the children, I tried to quell the fear but there was no escaping the fact that we needed to get home as soon as possible, before it got any worse. We ran home, children in our arms, at our feet, disorientated and confused.

We ran up the stairs to my friend’s house, being the nearest to us. As we were on the stairs shots were fired once again. We ushered the children into the house and closed the heavy metal door with a sigh of relief.

We settled down in the lounge, fear etched on our faces, our lips stretched into nervous smiles determined to keep up the pretence of normality for the childrens’ sakes.

As we began to relax shots were fired once again, with every round seeming like it was coming closer and this time we were plunged into darkness.

As my eyes adjusted the lack of light, I noticed my friend get to her feet. “We need to leave now, get to someone else’s house, someone on the ground floor, shots are being fired upwards”.

Doubt filled my mind, should we really leave the safety of the house now? Were we really even safe at all?

I knew we had to move quickly and decided to follow her lead. Not even bothering to wear our shoes, we ran out of the house and down the stairs outside, the children sandwiched between us.

We ran into the apartment block where I lived, and knocked on my brother in law’s door. The second the last of us was in the building, the shots were fired again.

That’s when I knew, İdil was not going to improve, it was not going to be peaceful again, not for a very long time.