Years ago, actor Jack Merrill spoke to a Hollywood film executive about the story of the harrowing night in 1978 when he was kidnapped by serial killer John Wayne Gacy. “This is how you want to be remembered?” asked the manager. Merrill recalls, “I thought, ‘No, I don’t think so.’ That would bind me to him.’ ”

For decades, Merrill tried to put the attack behind him, telling only his closest friends that Gacy had put a loaded gun in his mouth during a night of rape and torture at his ranch house on the outskirts of Chicago.

Miraculously, Merrill survived. A few months later, on December 21, 1978, Gacy – a contractor who also performed as Pogo the Clown – was arrested and ultimately charged with the murders of 33 young men. Gacy was executed by lethal injection in 1994. Now Merrill, 65, is ready to share his account of survival and has written a one-man show about his extraordinary life. The rescueat the Electric Lodge Theater in Los Angeles. Performing the show is “cathartic,” he says. “I’m proud of my journey.”

Here is his story in his own words.

I grew up in a large house in Evanston, Illinois with four older sisters. It was a beautiful home, but a very unhappy place. Everything looked good from the outside. My father, Jerome Holtzman, was a baseball writer Chicago Sun Timesthe epitome of the cigar-chomping sports journalist. He invented the “save” statistic, used when a relief pitcher maintains his team’s lead to win the game. He is in the National Baseball Hall of Fame.

My mother had a narcissistic personality. Nothing existed except the way life affected her. Me and my sisters walked on eggshells and were constantly yelled at. No matter what I did, I was wrong.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

High school was an escape. My friends were great and I had a boyfriend that I loved very much. I got an A and a C, but the teachers liked me. We did some drugs – it was the 70s. At 17, I moved out of the house after getting into a fight with my dad on Christmas Eve and ended up in my own studio apartment in downtown Chicago overlooking Rush Street for $165 a month.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

When I was 19 I was working in clubs. I wanted to be an actor but didn’t know how to go about it. I went swimming at the YMCA and one evening I was walking home after swimming. A guy stopped and said, “Do you want a ride?” I thought I’d walk around the block a few times, but he drove off quickly and turned into a really bad neighborhood. He said, “Lock your door. It’s dangerous.” I said they kept it out of the papers because it was bad for business on nearby Rush Street, and he said, “How do you know?” You’re smart. You’re not like those other kids.”

class=”ql-align-justify”>

I had never gotten into someone’s car before, but I felt like I should stick around if he thought I was different than the other people he had picked up. He stopped near the Kennedy Expressway on-ramp and asked if I had ever eaten “poppers” – amyl nitrite. He pulled out this brown bottle, squirted some liquid onto a rag and shoved it in my face. I passed out and when I woke up I was handcuffed. I saw the exit for Cumberland on the highway, near the airport, and next thing we knew we were in front of his house.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

He told me to be quiet. A light from the back of the house hit him in the eyes and I suddenly realized how dangerous he was. I was a miserable 19 year old. I knew I couldn’t upset him. I just had to defuse the situation and pretend everything was okay. That’s how I survived as a child – we learned to keep a low profile during my parents’ tantrums.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

The house was dark. I felt it was a trap. He asked if I trusted him and I said I did, so he took the handcuffs off. There was a bar in the middle of the house. We were drinking beer and he had this strong potpourri and then he put the handcuffs back on me and dragged me down the hall. He put this homemade device around my neck. It had ropes and pulleys, and it ran around my back and through my handcuffed hands in such a way that I would suffocate if I struggled. At some point I did that and started deflating. He put a gun in my mouth. Then he raped me in the bedroom. I knew if I fought him I wouldn’t have much of a chance. I never freaked out or screamed. In a way I felt sorry for him too, like he didn’t necessarily want to do what he was doing but he couldn’t stop. We had been there for hours. I finally noticed that he was tired. Suddenly he said, “I’m taking you home.”

class=”ql-align-justify”>

He dropped me off not far from where he picked me up. It was around 5am. He gave me his phone number and said, “Maybe we’ll meet again sometime.” When I got home, I flushed the number down the toilet and then took a shower. I didn’t call the police – I didn’t know he was a murderer at the time. I went to the Snowflake Diner and had scrambled eggs and a chocolate milkshake. I made a pact with myself to get over it. I wouldn’t leave my happiness in this house.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

A few months later I saw a headline in the Chicago Sun Times: “Bodies found at suburban site.” In the story, there was a map and there was the Cumberland exit on the Kennedy Expressway. I called the newspaper and said, “This guy raped me.” The man who answered said, “What was your name, did you say?” I didn’t say my name. I was sensitive about my name because people knew my father. That was his job. I hung up. I thought if the police ever needed my help, I would come forward. They found all these bodies under this house and years later he was convicted. But like I said, if they had needed me, I would have reached out.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

I read that he went to prison. I saw his picture and he was repulsive. The lurking thought was: Has he defiled me? Was I somehow tainted? I needed a change. If the film fame When I came out, I looked at it and thought, “I’m out of here.” I’m going to wear second-hand clothes and cry in acting class. “I moved to New York on my 21st birthday. I got into the drama department at NYU. In 1986, a few friends and I founded Naked Angels, an off-Broadway company for actors and playwrights. Acting was therapeutic for me. You’re forced to express yourself, and with that comes a certain honesty. Recognition and acceptance.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

Want to stay up to date with the latest crime coverage? Sign in PEOPLE Free true crime newsletter with breaking crime news, ongoing trial coverage and details of intriguing unsolved cases.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

I was in group therapy, but that wasn’t the point. I had a friend who had AIDS and I joined a support group. I read that Oprah is doing a show about forgiveness. There was a woman who had been raped, beaten and left to die. She said if she didn’t forgive her attacker, she wouldn’t be able to move on with her life. I knew I had to do this – to somehow forgive Gacy.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

I also had to forgive my parents. Eventually, I somewhat restored my relationship with them. My dad would visit New York and say things like, “I know I wasn’t a good father,” and I’d say, “Do you want to talk about it?” And he’d say, “No!” You have to laugh. Twice a year my mother would come and we would go to Broadway shows and take a trip into the city. Outside the house they were different people. It was only later, when I was writing about my childhood for this show, that I realized that the lessons I had learned at home had saved me. You saved my life that night. These lessons – having this radar – have stayed with me throughout my life.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

Don’t get me wrong – I’m still dealing with this. Our culture is obsessed with John Wayne Gacy. Years ago I went to the Haunted Hayride in Griffith Park in LA. We turn the corner and see a banner that says “Macy’s Day Parade.” But the “M” has been crossed out and replaced with a red “G,” and there are clowns running around with axes and knives. It’s that fear factor. People love it, but I don’t enjoy violence. I won’t go to these cinemas. The idea of ​​watching someone get tied up. . . I can’t. When I’m scared, I never cry – my emotions are blocked. But when good things happen in movies, when someone gets what they want, that’s when the waterworks begin.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

I also found love. My husband and I have been together for 23 years. We have a rescue dog, Fred, and a hairless cat named Felix. A perfect American family. I learned that no one’s trauma is greater than anyone else’s. There are many people who have had bad things happen to them. Many people who have been raped don’t talk about it. I understand that. So far I’ve only told close friends. But when I do my new show, I go through it every night. I’m proud of the journey. I was able to learn from the bad and use it for good. You know, I’m lucky. I’ve always been lucky.

class=”ql-align-justify”>

If you or someone you know is a victim of sexual abuse, text “TRUST” to the Crisis Text Line at 741741 to be connected to a certified crisis counselor.

class=”ql-align-justify”>