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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 27474 | 2018-08-19 13:08:04 | 94.88 | 97% |
| 27458 | 2018-08-19 05:52:09 | 100.80 | 98% |
| 23625 | 2018-04-30 15:13:13 | 88.67 | 100% |
| 23588 | 2018-04-30 13:50:40 | 87.94 | 97% |
| 21871 | 2018-01-31 15:45:31 | 98.91 | 98% |
| 19043 | 2017-11-22 13:17:51 | 90.28 | 97% |
| 17922 | 2017-10-20 03:35:10 | 88.93 | 97% |
| 17087 | 2017-09-28 04:33:56 | 81.06 | 97% |
| 12381 | 2017-05-20 15:04:50 | 84.84 | 95% |
| 11679 | 2017-04-26 12:18:57 | 88.38 | 96% |