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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6382 | 2017-07-09 00:31:50 | 181.26 | 99% |
| 3177 | 2017-04-21 01:53:56 | 152.21 | 91% |
| 860 | 2017-02-07 01:31:45 | 156.67 | 91% |