It wasn't Gwendolyn. No, that was only in the passports. If she could have it her way, her name would make Willow Mercury. There was nothing interesting to her about Harris. She was positive that there were at least a million other Harrises that she knew not of.
Mercury, however, was for one, Freddie Mercury's last name, and secondly, it was the only symbol form she was able to remember from the periodic table in Science last year. Strangely enough, the much simper 'O' and 'H' for oxygen and hydrogen failed to register in her mind.
But other than her name, could she have it her way, things in her life up to this point would have happened quite differently. Perhaps her life would not even had happened at all. It would be presumptuous to for one to make such an accusation and to those who were acquainted with her, one that seemed not to apply to her at all.
However, these people who knew of Gwendolyn did not quite know her, in spite of their assuming they did. Gwendolyn was good at that; creating an illusion of being someone she was not. Or making a mask that so perfectly shaped her face and muffled not a word of her voice to fool others. And she named that one Willow.
There were shameful scars that marked the other one. The real one. But the use of that term is still debatable. There were things that even to her were unclear. Some were too clear. So here she was, by the track, on her way to understanding and forgetting.
Yet, she wasn't alone. She had Willow, and she'd prefer - if she was to come back - that Willow only, would return.