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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1487 | 2017-06-18 13:44:56 | 69.17 | 96% |
| 1242 | 2017-05-17 00:13:41 | 68.04 | 92% |
| 393 | 2017-04-28 14:42:29 | 59.23 | 91% |
| 139 | 2017-03-23 04:23:02 | 51.79 | 90% |