Two teenage girls sit in front of me. They don't know each other well, but they've got a lot in common. Both wear pink headscarves, offsetting their dark drapes underneath. Both wish they could be like other normal people their age – playing with their friends at school, buying clothes.

Both of these girls, however, have expressed that they no longer want to go on living.

We're at a family centre in West Bekaa, Lebanon, an hour and half's drive from the capital Beirut. On the right is Nour Abdel Hakim el Omar. Aged just 14-years-old, she was married to her cousin five months ago. To her left is 17-year-old Fatima Khaled el Omar, whose 4-year-old daughter Nada is quietly chucking a toy butterfly back and forth across the room.

'I didn't know this is what marriage involved,' explains Fatima, tears in her eyes. 'No one told me.'

She's referring not only to regular beatings from her husband, Ahmed (not his real name), but the fact that they don't have enough money to eat. He was wounded by a bomb fragment in his chest, which means he's only able to work once a week picking vegetables. The family earn just $3 a week. Fatima is anaemic and has been ordered by the doctor to eat more red meat, but they simply can't afford it.

'Before getting married, I lived with my parents and had everything I needed. Now, I have nothing. Winter is coming and I have no clothes, no shoes, and no stove.'

On the right is 17-year-old Fatima Khaled el Omar, and 4-year-old daughter Nada. On the right is 14-year-old Nour Abdel Hakim el Omar | ELLE UKpinterest
Hassan Chamoun
On the left is Fatima Khaled el Omar, and her daughter Nada, while Nour Abdel Hakim el Omar sits on the right.

Nour is less than six months in, but repeats a similar refrain to Fatima: she didn't know this was marriage.

'I wanted to marry him, so maybe it's my fault,' she says.

When Nour first met her now-husband, Mohammed (again, not his real name), they both liked each other. So much so, it was actually Nour who convinced her father she should marry her boyfriend. Usually, the parents decide and the children obey. But despite her father's bad feeling, she persisted. She told her father that Mohammed was a good guy, that he treated her well.

'I thought he was the one for me,' she explains.

After rejecting the first three marriage offers, Nour's father eventually gave in. But it didn't take long for the cracks to emerge.

'I was happy wearing my wedding dress, but now…' she says, dropping her gaze. 'I am always afraid. Today, when he hit me, I closed the bedroom door and stayed inside to get away from him.'

Each year, 15 million girls are married under the age of 18. In developing countries, one in every three girls is married before 18. Child marriage – any marriage where one or both spouses are under the age of 18 – is a violation of human rights. This is because entering into a marriage as a child, rather than later in life, brings with it severe and long-lasting consequences; complications during pregnancy, a higher risk of contracting HIV, and the end of girl's education. You are also much more likely to experience domestic violence.

A growing number of Syrian girls in refugee communities – Turkey, Iraq and Jordan – are being married off because of the civil war. Nowhere is this more obvious than in Lebanon. With 1.1 million Syrian refugees living inside its borders, the country has become one of the main countries of resettlement – and rates of child marriage are on the rise. The 2016 MoSA and UNICEF Baseline Survey found that 27% of Syrian women between 15 and 19 years of age are currently married, and 41% were married before their 18th birthday.

To combat the problem, the U.N. Population Fund's (UNFPA) outreach programmes engage parents, community leaders, and health-care workers in a bid to empower them to advocate for change. UNFPA also supports safe spaces, legal counselling and psychosocial care for vulnerable women and girls, particularly those affected by early marriage.

4-year-old Nada is the baby of a Syrian refugee | ELLE UKpinterest
Hassan Chamoun
Nada, the 4-year-old daughter of Fatima Khaled el Omar

It's important to note that child marriage is not new to Syria, nor Syrian people, but the conflict has increased the practice at an alarming rate. Parents see it as a way to protect their daughters against the cycle of sexual exploitation, whilst also relieving the family's financial burden. Can't cope? Marry your daughter off and those worries are transferred directly to the husband.

But as Nour and Fatima highlight, the logic is highly flawed. Young girls are often put in the way of more danger, from which they can't escape.

Fatima, for example, asked her parents for a divorce. Instead of helping, her mother hit her in the face and told her to go back to her husband's house. It was the final blow for Fatima. The then 13-year-old found a packet of contraception pills at her parent's house – she thinks they belonged to her sister-in-law – and swallowed the lot.

'I wanted to die,' she says quietly.

Unbeknown to Fatima, she was five months pregnant. The baby was unharmed – Nada is an endearingly calm toddler, she doesn't cry once in the hour we're together – but Fatima says she feels very alone. An already very painful situation is somehow made even sadder when she tells me that, before all of this, she was in love with someone else.

14-year-old Nour Abdel Hakim el Omar is a Syrian refugee who has been forced in child marriage | ELLE UKpinterest
Hassan Chamoun
Nour Abdel Hakim el Omar

'He was good to me,' she smiles, 'and he loved me.' They intended to marry, but the guy's brother died, and he needed to wait ten days (to mourn) before asking permission. Ahmed found out, swooped in and told Fatima's father, who didn't want to give his daughter to a 'stranger' and demanded she marry her cousin. The guy moved away, married someone else, and Fatima hasn't seen him since.

'I cried every day after that.'

Nour, on the other hand, might be too young to have children but her views of motherhood are already firmly cemented.

'I don't want kids. I've told my mum I want to start taking contraception. I'm unhappy in my own life, how can I bring kids into this world?'

Nour would rather not sleep with Mohammed, but she's bound by being a 'dutiful' wife. She remembers the first night they consummated the marriage.

'After the ceremony, I refused him three times. But I couldn't keep refusing him. He was my husband, so it happened after three days.'

Both girls would like to go to school, and while it's unlikely they'll get the chance, they hope their girls (or future girls) will have the opportunity. When Fatima is sad, she prays. 'I don't want cars or money, but I pray that god helps my daughter to have a better life than I did.'

4-year-old Nada is the daughter of a child bride | ELLE UKpinterest
Hannah O'Neill

If nothing else, they will firmly pass on the message that early marriage is harmful. Nour has warned her younger sister about getting married under 18 ('I'll hit her if she does' she half-jokes), while Fatima will only let her daughter marry when she's 25, and only if she wants to.

'I've seen so many things in my life, but inside I still feel like child,' explains Fatima. 'Sometimes I think what's the point of living? But when I look at my daughter I think, if I die, they will do the same to her as they did to me. So I stay alive for her.'

This article is part of a journalism project funded by the European Journalism Centre.

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Louise Donovan
Deputy Digital Editor
Louise Donovan is the Deputy Digital Editor at ELLE UK, with a focus on international women's rights, global development and human interest stories. She's reported from countries in Africa, Asia, Latin America and the Middle East.