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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3925 | 2019-01-17 02:36:32 | 187.96 | 98% |
| 3572 | 2019-01-10 00:34:03 | 175.03 | 98% |
| 2109 | 2018-10-31 19:49:47 | 161.12 | 98% |
| 1485 | 2018-10-11 00:14:19 | 183.51 | 99% |
| 1089 | 2018-10-06 15:25:20 | 153.83 | 97% |