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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 59288 | 2020-08-01 18:09:02 | 130.91 | 97% |
| 56800 | 2020-04-02 14:28:55 | 133.84 | 99% |
| 50827 | 2019-11-02 18:28:50 | 145.66 | 98% |
| 46820 | 2019-03-20 22:08:27 | 121.74 | 98% |
| 46520 | 2019-02-24 14:37:04 | 127.76 | 98% |
| 41420 | 2018-10-26 15:10:16 | 127.13 | 98% |
| 37647 | 2017-09-06 11:31:05 | 102.21 | 97% |
| 34764 | 2017-08-03 00:54:38 | 136.38 | 99% |
| 33777 | 2017-07-15 00:24:25 | 134.55 | 99% |
| 33023 | 2017-07-03 20:42:03 | 138.26 | 98% |
| 29870 | 2017-04-08 14:01:27 | 113.15 | 96% |