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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11574 | 2017-10-11 00:24:34 | 73.26 | 97% |
| 11214 | 2017-09-29 23:05:32 | 80.79 | 98% |
| 10626 | 2017-09-17 22:54:44 | 81.99 | 98% |
| 10522 | 2017-09-16 02:20:59 | 83.68 | 98% |
| 10506 | 2017-09-15 23:43:30 | 77.65 | 98% |
| 9747 | 2017-06-25 03:32:31 | 74.69 | 98% |