Undeniable Fate

Two

"Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to tonight's fight! On the left we have two-hundred twenty-three pound, Asher Bates! And on our right we have two-hundred thirty-five pound, Drake Matthews!" The announcer calls and the crowd cheers.
My friend, Dylan, stands next to me, "this dude's blows are damaging, but he's slow, use that as an advantage. Keep on your toes and you should be okay."
I nod, and tighten the wrap around my hands, bouncing on the balls of my feet and shaking my arms out.
"You've got this, Asher," Dylan cheers and claps me on the shoulder.
I walk to the middle and stop in front of my opponent.
"Shake hands," the announcer states.
I shake the guys hand and the announcer steps back, "fight!" The bell dings and I bounce slightly, my hands up guarding my face.
He swings and I dodge, then move behind him, quickly. He strikes again, and his fist hits me in the face.
I hear the crunch of my nose and feel the blood run down my face.
'You're going to get yourself killed, kid. Don't go into fighting!' My uncle's voice rings in my head. 'We need the money, uncle, and it's the only thing I'm good at.'
My thoughts are brought back when my opponent lands another punch to my gut, and I fall to the ground.
"Come on, Ash! Where's your head?!" Dylan yells at me from the side.
I pull myself up and glare at the guy in front of me, then make my attack.
I hit him, over and over. Left, right, uppercut. I repeat the pattern in my head, landing punches to his face and stomach.
He falls to the ground. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10!
I won.
Dylan cheers and I walk over, and he helps me into the back. I plop on to the bench and he begins cleaning the blood and sweat from me.
"Your nose is definitely broken, and your ribs will be pretty bruised, but other than that you're good," he tells me.
I nod just as Jack walks in smiling.
"Great fight! Here's your money, and I'll contact you for your next fight times," he states and passes the money to me.
I take it, "Yep."
He walks out and Dylan sits next to me, "you're uncle's not too fond of this 'job'?" It sounded more like a statement than a question.
I sigh, "it's the only thing I'm good at, Dylan, and if I can get money from it that just adds to my desire to fight."
"So, you're saying you'd fight even if you didn't need the money?" He questions.
"Yep, is there a problem?" I reply, unwrapping my hands.
He shakes his head, "one day you could get killed, and what happens if you don't want to fight? What will Jack say? Better yet, what would he do?"
I shrug, "I don't live my life on 'what-ifs', Dylan, and I want to fight so I doubt you'll have to worry. Now, let's go, I'm starving."