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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11727 | 2020-09-02 07:42:49 | 84.25 | 99% |
| 7235 | 2020-02-16 19:57:25 | 63.81 | 98% |
| 6114 | 2019-06-03 03:20:02 | 64.48 | 99% |
| 5924 | 2018-11-15 06:08:13 | 70.98 | 97% |