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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 25630 | 2019-08-22 22:09:18 | 130.26 | 99% |
| 22442 | 2018-12-19 22:40:53 | 104.78 | 97% |
| 21835 | 2018-11-26 23:44:31 | 123.73 | 99% |
| 16752 | 2018-05-16 18:24:49 | 124.49 | 98% |
| 15147 | 2018-04-11 18:47:03 | 130.52 | 99% |
| 11021 | 2017-12-16 14:30:57 | 100.17 | 97% |
| 9309 | 2017-10-29 19:49:38 | 117.38 | 98% |
| 169 | 2017-03-31 15:03:37 | 96.20 | 95% |