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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2322 | 2018-01-30 20:13:39 | 136.00 | 99% |
| 1905 | 2018-01-12 14:17:39 | 121.01 | 98% |
| 316 | 2017-06-07 11:26:11 | 115.36 | 97% |