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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12980 | 2019-05-27 17:01:07 | 108.07 | 97% |
| 7942 | 2018-10-28 08:51:10 | 92.23 | 97% |
| 2274 | 2018-05-24 15:03:10 | 86.33 | 97% |
| 2102 | 2018-05-20 11:42:35 | 87.91 | 96% |
| 326 | 2017-12-22 19:10:01 | 61.13 | 96% |