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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 20427 | 2019-09-06 09:28:23 | 128.86 | 99% |
| 17964 | 2019-04-11 08:19:26 | 128.66 | 98% |
| 17908 | 2019-04-09 15:41:07 | 143.51 | 99% |
| 16806 | 2018-12-25 14:17:19 | 115.39 | 97% |
| 15020 | 2018-09-07 10:56:44 | 128.03 | 98% |
| 14909 | 2018-09-01 08:49:25 | 135.89 | 99% |
| 13362 | 2018-06-20 16:16:26 | 139.78 | 99% |
| 10621 | 2018-03-04 16:27:40 | 128.23 | 99% |
| 9368 | 2018-02-09 09:46:36 | 104.64 | 98% |
| 7634 | 2017-04-29 12:12:51 | 123.90 | 97% |