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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12983 | 2019-06-10 14:30:01 | 128.28 | 99% |
| 11960 | 2018-11-08 10:29:56 | 112.29 | 98% |
| 11229 | 2018-02-08 10:39:40 | 108.17 | 98% |
| 10788 | 2018-01-17 09:24:12 | 113.31 | 97% |
| 5748 | 2017-05-01 06:34:50 | 85.76 | 87% |
| 4707 | 2017-04-21 05:12:04 | 102.46 | 94% |
| 3759 | 2017-04-11 04:27:13 | 95.79 | 91% |
| 3179 | 2017-04-03 12:32:56 | 83.94 | 88% |
| 875 | 2017-02-22 04:38:21 | 70.71 | 87% |