It was 2010. I was twenty with a two-year-old daughter and a six-month-old son. I was working full time, while my fiancé was in and out of work. Every month we struggled to make the bills. One night around 9 p.m., the landlord stopped by, and I paid him half the rent. We agreed that I would pay the rest by the end of the month.

But a few days later, I arrived home to find an eviction notice taped to my door. It said I owed $2,000. I was sure I only owed $325. When I called and told him as much, he told me to prove it. I couldn’t. I had never asked him for a receipt and had always paid in bills with checks I cashed at Wal-Mart.

I had to come up with $1,000 to stay an extra thirty days before leaving. I felt cheated.