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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 613 | 2017-05-28 18:31:55 | 95.73 | 97% |
| 397 | 2017-05-17 21:41:16 | 92.17 | 96% |
| 43 | 2017-05-11 23:54:42 | 86.45 | 95% |