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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 24011 | 2019-06-29 00:09:14 | 142.38 | 98% |
| 23980 | 2019-06-13 08:44:27 | 145.08 | 99% |
| 23011 | 2019-04-09 15:41:10 | 131.69 | 97% |
| 20699 | 2019-02-15 09:04:50 | 128.34 | 97% |
| 15718 | 2018-10-31 21:11:02 | 129.35 | 97% |
| 14727 | 2018-10-19 05:09:34 | 138.92 | 98% |
| 11996 | 2018-09-19 17:04:21 | 126.59 | 97% |
| 9457 | 2018-09-01 08:49:24 | 136.69 | 98% |
| 1726 | 2018-07-13 17:11:24 | 108.65 | 96% |
| 1002 | 2018-07-10 03:33:12 | 116.73 | 98% |