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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1614 | 2017-08-01 19:08:07 | 109.10 | 99% |
| 1370 | 2017-07-27 19:11:44 | 107.42 | 99% |
| 885 | 2017-07-18 18:33:42 | 104.50 | 99% |
| 162 | 2017-04-11 18:30:42 | 116.91 | 100% |
| 45 | 2017-03-09 19:51:14 | 102.62 | 98% |