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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 9000 | 2018-04-24 12:28:59 | 77.67 | 96% |
| 6810 | 2018-02-17 20:03:53 | 72.97 | 98% |
| 6135 | 2018-01-17 22:11:58 | 78.38 | 98% |
| 5708 | 2017-08-28 01:30:50 | 84.70 | 99% |
| 5558 | 2017-08-25 14:35:43 | 63.62 | 96% |
| 5160 | 2017-08-21 15:05:53 | 75.30 | 99% |
| 4324 | 2017-08-09 22:04:58 | 77.28 | 96% |
| 3989 | 2017-08-02 20:51:33 | 73.97 | 96% |
| 3449 | 2017-07-27 16:20:04 | 66.42 | 96% |