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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 48725 | 2020-04-12 00:26:43 | 151.55 | 99% |
| 39129 | 2020-03-04 21:44:01 | 167.92 | 100% |
| 37502 | 2020-02-02 23:33:19 | 169.97 | 99% |
| 33793 | 2020-01-02 12:23:12 | 150.57 | 98% |
| 22549 | 2019-07-10 19:45:43 | 131.14 | 97% |
| 21636 | 2019-07-06 09:44:56 | 145.63 | 98% |
| 20451 | 2019-06-28 21:11:20 | 168.30 | 99% |
| 20244 | 2019-06-28 00:15:06 | 152.41 | 97% |
| 14715 | 2019-06-02 03:14:30 | 159.89 | 99% |
| 11499 | 2018-07-08 19:58:03 | 129.21 | 98% |
| 6686 | 2018-04-29 11:59:01 | 156.04 | 98% |
| 878 | 2018-03-13 17:24:09 | 154.01 | 99% |