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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 64220 | 2018-02-07 11:52:54 | 147.02 | 98% |
| 63162 | 2018-01-31 15:45:11 | 164.78 | 99% |
| 56250 | 2017-12-16 10:58:25 | 158.27 | 99% |
| 51178 | 2017-07-23 11:59:33 | 147.42 | 98% |