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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13308 | 2018-02-10 00:21:22 | 109.32 | 99% |
| 12241 | 2018-01-09 19:06:06 | 103.81 | 99% |
| 10531 | 2017-08-08 02:16:44 | 108.80 | 100% |
| 8742 | 2017-05-04 23:02:48 | 110.18 | 99% |
| 8194 | 2017-04-13 18:00:11 | 101.62 | 98% |