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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3762 | 2018-06-22 09:48:15 | 67.00 | 96% |
| 2182 | 2018-06-05 09:20:03 | 70.53 | 98% |
| 1246 | 2018-05-23 14:00:24 | 69.54 | 98% |