Over the last few days, Artem Klooschnikov and his family have become accustomed to an awful ritual.

They have been staying at a rental flat in the town of Venizia, about four hours southwest of their home in Kiev.

And this sound has been a constant.

The usual one, the servant goes off, actually walk up the stairs.

Klooschnikov tells NPR's Eleanor Beardsley that he walks eight flights of stairs in his building,

rather than take the elevator, in case the power goes out.

At the top, his wife Marina is waiting with three-year-old Sasha.

A loving-year-old Olenka is down in the playground.

They grab a bag, they keep by the door with documents, a computer, some snacks,

and then, along with hundreds of others, they head to a concrete basement under a kindergarten for shelter.

There are rows of benches and little beds set up in another room nearby.

Marina says, she's thankful for this.

I'm glad we have this place. It seems to be safe.

You know, it's the only thing that matters right now.

It's no use to think about what you left behind or what you got used to.

Once they get the all-clear, they head right back to the apartment and start dinner.

This back and forth happens multiple times a day, but Artem says it beats living inside a bunker.

To me, that's unhealthy. Psychologically, emotionally, it kills you faster than any air strike.

So I think we need to live on and be present in life and enjoy it.

And that's how we went.

Still, he says the daily drills are taking a toll on his daughter, Olenka.

I mean, it's the first time when I see her scared.

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