I was sitting on my beat-up couch, staring at the empty fridge in my tiny apartment. Rent was due two weeks ago, and I had nothing. Not a dime. My job at the warehouse had cut my hours, and bills were piling up like trash in the alley. I was 25, single, and desperate. The knock on the door made my stomach twist. I knew who it was. Mr. Harlan, my landlord. He was this big guy in his 40s, always wearing those cheap suits that hung loose on his gut. I dragged myself to the door and opened it.

'Liam, where's my rent?' he barked, pushing past me into...