The Mutant

Forests are forbidden.
Travel is forbidden.
Basements are forbidden.
Orange eyes are bad news.
It's all bad news, really. All of it. Nothing that happens is good news. Nothing will keep you safe.
Nothing, that is, except for the rules. The spoken and unspoken ones.
So you follow them. Because what else will protect you? What else will provide you with stability, what else will keep you sane?
You avoid the towering electric walls that cage you inside your tiny city, you don't even look at them because out of sight out of mind right? You ignore the heavily guarded forest farms, the demolition streets where they tear down house after house. You walk quickly past the chained off areas of the city, the ones with the EXTREME DANGER, DO NOT APPROACH signs. They don't have to worry. You'd never approach. If- by chance- you happen to see someone with orange eyes, you call the police. You turn the other way. You spit on them, if you think you're brave enough.
Unless you're me.
If you're me, you get as close to the walls as you can, staring out at the abnormally giant trees with your noticeably orange eyes, wondering;
How on earth were you born into a hellish place like this.