The Correlation Between Salvation and Love

Sian Arroyo was as close to the definition of perfect as a young-woman could ever imagine getting. While she liked to disagree, she knew her parents put her on a very short leash. That it was not changing if she wanted to go to college with their funds so she usually sat silently and emotionlessly while they made all her decisions for her. She looked the part as well. Her hair was naturally a soft golden blonde and it hung down into the middle of her back. Her eyes she inherited from her father were a deep ice blue and always had a soft coat of neutral colored make-up to accent them. She wasn’t tall, only standing at 5’7”, but she was in extremely good shape thanks to her mother micro-managing her diet and forcing a personal trainer into her life at a young age. She was beautiful, but she had no self-esteem to back it up as she did not really associate with anyone.

Having grown up mainly in Chicago, Sian was used to the high life. Her family raised her by De Paul University, their neighbors two doors down being some of the highest positioned employees for Goldman Sachs and friends with the current mayor at all times. They dined with royal figures of all kinds. Her parents were both lucky. Her father was an executive for a law firm that worked for Sachs and her mother came into old money at a very young age that built interest over time until she was twenty-five. Between the two of them and how much they had saved, they both never had to work a day of their lives again and they could survive.

Her mother, in fact, didn’t work. She instead stayed at home monitoring how Sian was to act and behave at all moments she could. Her only true escape was taking the brown line instead of the red and just saying she missed the train so she could “perfect her pronunciation” in her French lessons she ended her day with. In all reality, the brown line just took an extra thirty minutes to get back to Sian’s neighborhood from South Loop so she utilized that to read the books she hid in her bags that she checked out from the school libraries and learn about topics that actually interested her like History and Psychology.

One thing Sian did know was that she was not like the other teenagers in America. While her classmates grew up making their own choices, Sian never had that opportunity. She was put into music lessons from a young age of five and began classical training for piano. On top of this, she was expected to attend piano lessons, painting classes, etiquette training, French lessons, and her debutante courses for her later “premiere” her mother so looked forward to. Sian hated it all though. She hated them for forcing her to do debutante when she already had to go through etiquette. She hated them for giving her the name Sian, since it was spelt differently but really was just said like Shawn. But most of all, she hated her parents making her unapproachable by others due to their fear of how prim and proper she was by the time she entered middle school.

That was why when she was fifteen and they told her they were moving to London, she really only would miss the city of Chicago because she didn’t really have friends and she couldn’t wait to get away from the debutante program. But she faked sadness to please them and kept her true happiness to herself.



When they arrived at the house, Sian could only stare at it in awe. She had taken a separate car from her parents, a simple thing she silently thanked her parents for deciding on. The driver explained all the sights they passed to her, as she requested it, and she noted that as they moved through the older parts of the city it was slowly getting into more and more fancy homes. Her driver made a comment about her home being “posh” and though she didn’t know exactly what it meant, she had a feeling it meant rich.

Thanking him in her soft-spoken, almost inaudible voice, Sian climbed out of her car slowly. The white pleated dress she wore billowed softly in the summer breeze that was passing through. She fixed her cardigan and made sure her hair fell perfectly in place so her mother wouldn’t correct it as she began up the steps to the home. She entered silently, her black heals clicking softly on the marble tile as she stared in awe at the entry hall. Looking around at all the stark white with various accents of gold, Sian couldn’t help but let her jaw hang open. Her mother walked in at that moment, pursing her lips as she clicked her tongue at Sian, “Ladies do not stand there like that. Where is your posture? Oh and close your mouth before you start to look like a tart street walker.”

Sian immediately straightened up, nodding as she curtsied to her mother in a deep bow, “Sorry mother.”

“Forgiven. Do you like the new place? It’s lovely is it not?” Sian knew she would not dare to answer, as in all reality she did not need to. Her mother never listened to her opinion anyways and ignored her if she spoke. Sian told herself it was because she was so soft spoken, but she knew even if she spoke up she would be ignored. “Now, we have news for you. Wash up, change out of that airport outfit into your yoga clothes so we can do our yoga after we chat, and meet us here in twenty. Your room is upstairs, the hall on the left, and the first door on the right.”

Sian nodded, curtsying again out of respect before she hurried upstairs into the room she was directed into. She pushed the large doors open softly and gasped in awe at the bedroom. To say it was lavishly decorated would be an understatement. The walls were all a soft grey, something Sian actually loved that her parents chose. Her four poster bed from Chicago was long lost to a new one almost identical, so Sian did not mind that. What surprised her was the large fireplace in the room and the chandelier hanging above her bed. Her two French doors opened up to a balcony that overlooked the front and she could not help but notice that she could see a great view of the city when she woke up. Choosing to explore later, to avoid angering her mother further, she moved quickly to her wardrobe and pulled out her workout clothes her mother made her wear for their Monday, Wednesday, Friday yoga sessions.

She changed, ignoring shoes as they weren’t allowed in the workout space usually, and quickly pulled her long hair into a messy bun atop her head. She made her way downstairs to where her parents both were waiting, beginning to feel nervous for the first time since she was told they were moving. Her mother smiled at her snidely, glancing over at her father momentarily before speaking, “Your father and I agreed we did not like the private institutions in this area for you. So, you are going to a public school.”

Sian choked down a gasp that she almost let loose involuntarily, staring at her mother and father emotionlessly even though she was having a slight mental breakdown on the inside. Her only response was a soft “wonderful, thank you both” before she was whisked away to do yoga with her mother. To say she was disappointed in leaving Chicago with that new news was an understatement.