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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6667 | 2018-12-27 15:04:31 | 105.04 | 99% |
| 2054 | 2018-03-06 02:44:59 | 90.83 | 99% |
| 1626 | 2018-02-09 07:13:26 | 87.57 | 99% |
| 1014 | 2018-01-26 06:55:09 | 85.39 | 99% |
| 373 | 2017-12-19 14:21:39 | 90.57 | 98% |