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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10256 | 2019-08-26 00:29:21 | 94.35 | 97% |
| 1229 | 2017-09-11 03:33:48 | 72.40 | 97% |
| 410 | 2017-07-03 14:40:58 | 58.72 | 96% |
| 371 | 2017-07-03 06:28:33 | 62.34 | 96% |