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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12152 | 2018-04-22 02:37:20 | 85.86 | 98% |
| 10932 | 2018-03-11 18:17:20 | 86.52 | 97% |
| 10046 | 2017-12-27 04:39:04 | 85.83 | 97% |
| 6173 | 2017-09-08 08:38:50 | 88.10 | 97% |
| 5106 | 2017-08-01 16:44:24 | 84.12 | 97% |
| 3578 | 2017-04-01 09:23:20 | 75.07 | 96% |
| 2547 | 2017-03-16 18:53:19 | 77.44 | 98% |
| 1133 | 2017-01-18 16:05:31 | 65.04 | 93% |