*Disclaimer* I don't own The Beatles. Obviously.

I'm not new at writing...just new at putting it online. Tell me what you think! :)

I was tired of his bullshit. "This is the last time you do this shit to me. I'm not some doormat for you to wipe your muddy boots on!" I yelled at my boyfriend, or should I say, ex-boyfriend, Tommy. I slammed the door to our flat and took off walking down the street. I was fuming. He had cheated on me. AGAIN. With, yet again, ANOTHER floozy that he had picked up at The Cavern Club. The only thing that was keeping that flea ridden place used for a pub alive was that The Beatles used to play there. I put my ear buds in my ears and turned up the last song that I had been listening to as loud as I could stand it.

"Of all the love I have won or have lost, there is one love I should never have crossed. She was a girl in a million, my friend. I should have known she would win in the end. I'm a loser...".

I smirked. Fitting. Suddenly, my earbuds were knocked out of my ears and I was grabbed violently. I turned around to face a very angry Tommy. "You BITCH! I've been chasing you for 2 blocks!" he screeched. He reeled his right hand back and slapped me. Hard. I could taste the blood just as quickly as the tears came. I'm not sure how, but I got out of his grip, and instead of fighting back as I usually would, I ran. I left my crumpled heart (and iPod) on that street in Liverpool.

I could still hear him calling after me, rage in his voice. But I wasn't turning around. I kept running. I felt like my lungs were going to explode. Passerby looked at me like I was a wild banshee, but I didn't care. I wasn't going back there. Not now. Not ever. I didn't know where I was going...just not back. I heard footsteps behind me. "Ashley! What in the FUCK do you think you're doing! Get BACK here!" Tommy screamed. I had no choice. He was gaining on me. I ducked into an alley and immediately saw an open window near the street. I could tell it was a window that was supposed to be high up on a wall that was a part of a room underground. I had to get in.

I stepped carefully through the window, making sure that I had the right footing before I dropped in.

I immediately felt a change in the air. It was...staler? No...that wasn't it. Oh wait...fuck. I was in a guy's bathroom. Great.

"HEY! You can't be in here!" I heard a strangely familiar voice say as he quickly zipped up his fly and took a step back from the urinal he had been at. I rolled my eyes. "I know, I know. I don't need a lecture. I was running from..." I began to explain, when I suddenly stopped. He had turned around and gave me a questioning look. I closed my eyes, and reopened them. "Well...from who?" he asked. He walked over to the sink and began to wash his hands. "You're...you're...you're Ringo Starr." I said in awe. "Yeah...that's right." he said in response. "But...you look like you're 20!" I gasped. "22 as a matter of fact...not that it's any of your business. Who did you say that you were again?" he asked. "Oh...I'm sorry. I'm Ashley...Ashley Smith." I said, immediately shaking his hand.

'I'm never washing this hand again.' I made a mental note to myself. "Ringo! Quit mucking about! We're..." I began to hear yet another familiar voice say. John Lennon, followed by non other than Paul McCartney and George Harrison walked through the door. "Oh. Well...we didn't know you were playing with a friend. By all means..." John winked playfully as he began to walk back out. "WAIT!" I yelled. He walked back in. "How is this...what...huh?" I began to stutter. "You reckon she speaks English?" George whispered to Paul. Paul grinned. "Where did you come from then?" Paul asked, smiling. "She came in through the bathroom window," Ringo explained, "Still not quite sure why though." He was beginning to look a bit concerned at this point. "She said she was running from something," he continued to explain.

I just stood in shock. They all looked as if they were in their early twenties. This couldn't be real. "What year is it?" I asked. "She speaks!" John roared, laughing. "1962, love. What other year would it be?" Paul answered, furrowing his brow. "Are you okay?" I heard George ask, as he stepped a bit closer to me.

The room started to spin. And then, it went black.