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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10123 | 2018-11-19 03:43:30 | 77.36 | 98% |
| 9750 | 2018-10-24 06:53:45 | 84.23 | 97% |
| 6899 | 2018-09-20 09:21:16 | 63.23 | 96% |
| 6158 | 2018-09-12 08:20:55 | 91.70 | 98% |
| 3454 | 2018-08-28 03:17:20 | 79.34 | 97% |
| 2207 | 2018-08-17 13:42:37 | 79.33 | 97% |
| 2000 | 2018-08-07 14:00:50 | 77.00 | 99% |