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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12075 | 2017-07-25 14:45:48 | 119.32 | 98% |
| 7954 | 2017-06-02 19:42:29 | 116.00 | 94% |
| 6191 | 2017-05-16 14:35:34 | 137.95 | 99% |
| 4868 | 2017-05-03 15:45:36 | 110.78 | 95% |
| 4808 | 2017-05-03 14:51:09 | 125.55 | 98% |
| 4303 | 2017-05-01 18:39:07 | 106.56 | 96% |
| 3384 | 2017-04-21 15:53:47 | 110.23 | 95% |