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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 16959 | 2018-12-30 11:17:32 | 108.46 | 98% |
| 13882 | 2018-09-08 20:18:33 | 100.64 | 98% |
| 10701 | 2018-07-22 02:03:42 | 95.19 | 98% |
| 10599 | 2018-07-21 19:12:04 | 99.27 | 98% |
| 8432 | 2018-06-26 01:08:57 | 96.59 | 98% |
| 5346 | 2018-03-04 23:08:16 | 94.09 | 98% |
| 3056 | 2017-11-04 06:40:34 | 89.93 | 99% |
| 1396 | 2017-10-13 17:45:03 | 84.87 | 96% |