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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 46145 | 2019-12-27 20:20:24 | 127.77 | 96% |
| 43104 | 2019-09-25 18:37:59 | 118.96 | 97% |
| 37805 | 2019-05-28 16:45:16 | 123.76 | 97% |
| 37159 | 2019-05-19 20:42:20 | 139.18 | 97% |
| 37117 | 2019-05-19 17:32:09 | 121.87 | 95% |
| 35949 | 2019-04-29 20:40:58 | 130.54 | 97% |
| 30968 | 2018-12-25 19:09:47 | 116.27 | 94% |
| 30725 | 2018-12-23 17:33:45 | 136.31 | 97% |
| 22138 | 2018-08-13 21:14:36 | 121.97 | 95% |
| 21250 | 2018-08-04 15:43:49 | 151.26 | 98% |
| 18801 | 2018-06-01 18:12:32 | 132.49 | 97% |
| 5494 | 2017-05-06 19:00:43 | 119.80 | 94% |
| 4490 | 2017-04-03 17:38:32 | 99.56 | 89% |