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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 23653 | 2018-06-25 12:52:48 | 73.34 | 98% |
| 21067 | 2018-01-31 22:23:52 | 67.41 | 97% |
| 17170 | 2017-08-01 17:20:58 | 73.86 | 98% |
| 16852 | 2017-07-18 10:05:50 | 63.89 | 97% |
| 14150 | 2017-03-22 01:23:35 | 60.46 | 95% |
| 13173 | 2017-02-25 00:37:27 | 66.98 | 96% |