A loud, crashing knock at the door rang throughout your small, dirty apartment. It took you absolutely no time at all to deduce that it was your slimy and conniving landlord, Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You lived in a slummy part of town and always had. It was no secret that you had been poor all your life. You'd think that housing in an area like that would be cheap, but it wasn’t. Fyodor raised the rent at every opportunity he got. It was almost unlawful. And unfortunately, you didn’t know that until it had happened. You hadn’t read the lease thoroughly enough.

Due to your money struggles and the drastic inflation of your complex's housing fee, you were a week behind on rent. And as you creaked open the door to see your landlord’s dreadful, smirking face, you assumed that was why he was here.