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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6488 | 2020-04-22 03:46:20 | 78.84 | 98% |
| 6252 | 2019-11-27 15:46:36 | 76.92 | 97% |
| 2026 | 2017-06-26 03:12:55 | 64.00 | 95% |