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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7734 | 2020-07-18 13:32:40 | 88.84 | 100% |
| 3867 | 2018-06-26 09:37:12 | 73.22 | 98% |
| 2522 | 2017-11-05 12:22:51 | 80.44 | 97% |
| 2274 | 2017-08-22 12:42:10 | 55.03 | 97% |
| 1953 | 2017-07-28 16:21:50 | 60.00 | 96% |