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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 17294 | 2018-12-24 09:25:54 | 102.89 | 98% |
| 11114 | 2018-07-27 12:03:09 | 99.03 | 98% |
| 9126 | 2017-09-03 03:27:43 | 85.82 | 97% |
| 7972 | 2017-07-03 20:42:20 | 93.69 | 97% |
| 7101 | 2017-05-28 19:25:24 | 90.11 | 95% |
| 5853 | 2017-04-06 07:29:53 | 94.75 | 95% |
| 5400 | 2017-03-20 06:48:32 | 93.56 | 97% |
| 5220 | 2017-03-17 01:00:51 | 93.44 | 95% |
| 4175 | 2017-02-22 15:46:42 | 80.94 | 92% |
| 3189 | 2017-02-01 12:58:40 | 91.50 | 96% |