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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11034 | 2018-04-07 18:52:25 | 62.62 | 98% |
| 10442 | 2018-03-17 06:28:17 | 55.84 | 96% |
| 1620 | 2017-05-15 16:50:28 | 56.72 | 95% |
| 1474 | 2017-05-07 18:32:19 | 50.49 | 93% |
| 1315 | 2017-04-17 04:13:57 | 56.30 | 95% |