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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2143 | 2017-08-08 15:55:09 | 91.60 | 96% |
| 1412 | 2017-07-05 12:44:33 | 89.19 | 96% |
| 819 | 2017-06-14 13:56:53 | 79.28 | 96% |
| 407 | 2017-05-13 10:27:10 | 75.71 | 90% |