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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13502 | 2017-03-22 01:06:00 | 188.44 | 99% |
| 13372 | 2017-03-12 00:59:01 | 165.11 | 93% |
| 13147 | 2017-03-01 04:18:29 | 188.55 | 99% |