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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3314 | 2019-05-29 01:17:42 | 109.89 | 98% |
| 3255 | 2019-05-15 14:40:39 | 118.25 | 99% |
| 1615 | 2017-07-02 00:43:24 | 104.85 | 99% |