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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 46599 | 2020-12-15 15:03:57 | 93.09 | 98% |
| 37161 | 2020-08-11 08:13:45 | 102.00 | 99% |
| 29552 | 2020-03-09 16:58:55 | 107.72 | 99% |
| 26789 | 2020-01-15 16:23:32 | 85.72 | 97% |
| 26007 | 2020-01-03 12:48:18 | 87.36 | 98% |
| 22921 | 2019-11-30 17:32:36 | 93.66 | 99% |
| 18359 | 2019-09-30 14:42:37 | 92.83 | 97% |
| 12367 | 2019-04-23 09:59:27 | 82.39 | 98% |
| 7283 | 2019-03-09 14:36:52 | 97.64 | 98% |