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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11068 | 2019-10-16 17:17:15 | 118.04 | 98% |
| 7165 | 2018-01-31 03:01:12 | 100.49 | 96% |
| 7126 | 2018-01-25 13:57:10 | 94.15 | 97% |
| 5580 | 2017-08-19 20:13:52 | 107.09 | 97% |