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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6419 | 2017-12-04 14:34:14 | 123.52 | 98% |
| 5067 | 2017-03-10 02:17:36 | 121.24 | 98% |
| 4476 | 2017-02-17 05:01:16 | 113.90 | 96% |