What really counted was the possibility of escape, a leap of freedom, out of the implacable ritual, a wild run for it that would give whatever chance for hope there was. Of course, hope meant being cut down on some street corner, as you ran like mad, by a random bullet. But when I really thought it through, nothing was going to allow me such a luxury. Everything was against it; I would just be caught up in the machinery again.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 25338 | 2020-09-23 04:01:02 | 89.91 | 97% |
| 1379 | 2019-12-07 06:13:13 | 80.35 | 96% |
| 1353 | 2019-12-07 05:45:03 | 83.38 | 96% |
| 1328 | 2019-12-07 05:22:03 | 71.76 | 94% |