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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11179 | 2020-04-27 00:24:05 | 156.55 | 98% |
| 8491 | 2019-12-17 16:38:51 | 154.21 | 98% |
| 982 | 2017-08-06 15:51:57 | 133.99 | 99% |
| 155 | 2017-05-12 20:27:28 | 149.06 | 96% |