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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3676 | 2017-04-07 18:14:50 | 78.77 | 94% |
| 2695 | 2017-02-26 10:51:08 | 74.89 | 94% |
| 2109 | 2017-01-31 17:20:24 | 67.52 | 92% |