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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3487 | 2019-12-27 21:11:34 | 85.51 | 98% |
| 3054 | 2018-06-07 17:58:06 | 76.85 | 97% |
| 1926 | 2018-01-05 14:18:30 | 68.32 | 97% |
| 1658 | 2017-12-15 21:52:12 | 60.58 | 96% |
| 803 | 2017-10-05 19:44:32 | 61.17 | 96% |