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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 20200 | 2019-04-05 22:50:26 | 80.25 | 100% |
| 20165 | 2019-04-05 18:18:59 | 77.83 | 100% |
| 6717 | 2018-02-27 21:24:42 | 70.07 | 100% |
| 5174 | 2018-01-16 20:16:42 | 64.67 | 99% |