Okay. This is a short story I'm doing for an English class (so no stealing!) and any constructive criticism would be much appreciated. Also, this has mild language (like you might see in, say, Friends) but there's not much.

Side Effects

“Kid, I’m telling you, you have to quit it!”

“But… I can’t…”

“Like Hell you can’t! Look, if you want to stay in the game, you have to stop!”

“You don’t understand! My entire life depends on-”

“No, it doesn’t. Anyway, if you’re going to keep competing, I’m signing you back up for the minor league. It’s the only way you can get accepted again.” With those words, the diminutive man left the room.

“He doesn’t understand…” the other man moaned, cradling his head in his arms. He was seated on a bench in a locker room, clad in only a pair of shorts. His black hair hung limply in front of his face. “I can’t win without them.” A small plastic bag dropped from his hand onto the floor, scattering several tiny, white pills across the linoleum floor. “They’re the only things that keep me strong.” He stood up. “But I suppose I have no choice.” Trembling slightly, he opened the locker room door. The small man stared at him.

“Made a decision, Fitzgerald?” he asked.

“Yes,” Fitzgerald replied, his voice shaking faintly. “I’m ready for a match.”

***

A man in a black-and-white referee suit stood in the middle of a ring, surrounded by people of all ages munching on hot dogs, swigging soda, and cheering. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a real treat for you tonight, “ he began in a very pronounced Southern drawl, “the current minor league up-and-comer, weighing in at a spectacular two hundred six pounds and standing a magnificent six foot two, the pulverizing patriarch, the duke of destruction, King K!” The audience began to cheer and scream as a tall man wearing golden shorts and gloves climbed into the ring. He had a large brown moustache that obscured his mouth, and his eyes glared out over the crowd like an angry buzzard.

“In the other corner, standing at five foot eleven and weighing two hundred ten pounds, making a triumphant return to pro boxing after his brush with…” The referee stopped there as he caught sight of Fitzgerald glowering at him. “Well, you all know that story. Making his triumphant return tonight, we have the furious, fierce, feisty, Fitz the Fatal!” Fitzgerald stepped into the ring amongst several boos and hisses, as well as trash being thrown in his direction. He sighed and placed one red glove on his forehead.

“Now, gentlemen, I don’t have to tell you the rules. No hitting below the belt, no biting, no kicking, you know the drill.” The referee stepped back as Fitzgerald and King K walked to their corners. “Now that the formalities are done with, let’s get ready to BRAAAWL!” A bull rung from outside the arena and King K and Fitzgerald began to circle each other.

“My life depends on it…” Fitzgerald shook the thought clear from his head and launched a jab at King K’s face. He blocked it easily and countered with a punch toward Fitzgerald’s stomach, but Fitzgerald blocked it too. “I can’t compete without it…” Fitzgerald feinted toward King K’s forehead, but King K ducked and landed a blow hard on Fitzgerald’s chest. He launched a counterattack straight at the top of King K’s head, but King K dodged at the last second and smacked Fitzgerald in the face. For a split second, Fitzgerald saw his trainer instead of King K. Another blow to the face. This time, he saw the judge that expelled him from the game. Another blow. His ex-wife, this time. Another. His teenage son. One more. His mother. They all said the same thing: “You betrayed the sport and you betrayed us. You are on your own.” After what seemed like an eternity, the bell rang again and the two boxers returned to their corners. Fitzgerald’s trainer was waiting with a worried look plastered on his face.

“How are you holding up? You’re taking a beating like nobody’s business out there. Not good for the first match back, kid, not good at all.”

Fitzgerald panted heavily and whispered to the short man. “I know I promised, Jack, but I can’t do it. I need them… I can’t win without them. Give them to me!”

“Kid, you’ve come too far! Don’t give up now!”

“I can’t do it without them, Jack! Give them to me now!”

“NO!” With a blow that could be heard from the opposite side of the arena, Jack smacked Fitzgerald off of his stool. “Kid, I’m not letting you do that again! Get back in there, and FIGHT!” Jack walked away, and the bell rang once more. Fitzgerald stumbled back into the middle of the ring. King K leered at him.

“Heh, you don’t look so hot, punk. Think you can take what King K has to offer?” Fitzgerald merely stared as King K turned into his trainer again. “I can’t believe you, kid. You threw it all away.”

“No…” Fitzgerald muttered and made a feeble attempt to land a blow on King K. He smirked.

“What’s a punch like that going to do?” King K taunted, before turning into an image of his ex-wife. “You bastard. The perfect life and you trash it. And for what?”

“No!” Fitzgerald stood up a little more.

“Oh, are you trying to intimidate me now? Yeah, I’m real terrified!” snickered King K. Fitzgerald glared at him. Before him stood a carbon copy of the judge who sentenced him away from boxing. “I find you guilty of illegal drug use and hereby put you on indefinite suspension from the sport of boxing in this, or any, state in the United States!”

Fitzgerald merely stood in shock. King K laughed again, but this time, Fitzgerald’s estranged son stood before him. “Dad. You don’t care about this family at all. Let me put it into simple terms: I hate you. I always will. It’s as easy as that.”

Fitzgerald cracked his knuckles through the gloves. “I will not stand for that…”

“Aw, what’s the matter, baby?” King K drawled. “Having too much fun talking to yourself to fight me? Maybe you miss your family, is that it?” He smirked. “Or maybe… do you miss the pills that got you this far?”

“No! I won’t take that!” Fitzgerald murmured under his breath. He pulled back his fist.

“Oh, are you going to actually going to punch me now? Please spare me your horrible wrath, mighty Fitz! Or should I say, Ditz?” King K sneered once more, but his expression quickly changed to fear as a fist caught him right between the eyes. King K dropped.

The referee stepped back in and kneeled next to the unconscious form of King K. “1… 2… 3…” He stood up and grabbed Fitzgerald by the wrist. “Ladies and gentlemen, advancing to the next round is our one and only Fitz the Fatal!” The crowd began to cheer.

***

Fitzgerald walked back into the locker room. He glanced down at the floor and his heart leapt into his throat – the pills he had spilled earlier were still there. He picked up one of them, his hand shaking. He shook his head and dropped it again. With a quick and deliberate movement, he stepped on it.