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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 19164 | 2017-06-02 19:42:31 | 111.35 | 95% |
| 19099 | 2017-05-27 23:30:59 | 99.73 | 90% |
| 17032 | 2017-02-22 04:37:57 | 105.48 | 96% |