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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 16741 | 2020-07-16 01:35:26 | 94.71 | 98% |
| 14703 | 2019-11-12 20:43:08 | 95.68 | 98% |
| 13046 | 2019-07-11 12:24:25 | 101.72 | 99% |
| 2558 | 2018-09-07 09:40:30 | 70.94 | 97% |
| 1911 | 2018-08-28 04:53:34 | 57.14 | 98% |