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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10056 | 2020-12-15 13:35:27 | 99.27 | 97% |
| 4004 | 2018-04-18 06:46:17 | 90.13 | 96% |
| 3064 | 2018-03-11 00:49:09 | 90.25 | 98% |
| 2641 | 2018-03-03 14:14:32 | 83.40 | 97% |