A long time ago when I was in high school my friends and I were leaving a party because a mate had been attacked and I'd almost been drawn into a fight. We were waiting for a ride from the guy who got attacks mother, we'd been drinking and had been dropped there with the intention of being picked up in the morning. These other guys, who were unrelated to the previous guys started harrassing my friend as we waiting 100m away from the party with our stuff.
Somehow a fight broke out, truth be told it might have been one of my mates that threw it, I didn't see. Anyway it's all hells broken loose as we fight and others try to break it up and get pulled in. One guy tackled me and was laying into my face, broke my nose and bruised one side to the point where I couldn't open my eye. As I was laying back into him and we rolled around I saw another guy who had hit one of my mates go down. For some reason, heat of the moment I figure, I decided, if I couldn't get his big bastard off me, I'd hurt his mate instead, so while I'm being pummeled I lashed out with my foot and kept kicked that guy who was down in the chest and gut. Low move I admit, but at the time I was also down on the ground getting the shit beaten out of me.
What seems like an eternity later, my friends mum arrived screamed at everyone and made them and us feel like we were a tiny kids again, someone said "they started it", to which she did the classic "well I'm finishing it".
My mate also had his nose broken, lots of bruises on everyone. However turns out one of the kids, the guy I'd been kicking had to go to hospital with a pneumothorax and some cracked ribs. It was actually pretty haunting and I tend to avoid conflict at all costs these days.