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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10889 | 2018-07-08 19:57:58 | 148.02 | 99% |
| 9740 | 2017-11-14 20:17:58 | 168.40 | 100% |
| 8627 | 2017-04-28 15:58:55 | 156.05 | 96% |